


Rewritten

by platonicharmonics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Gen, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonicharmonics/pseuds/platonicharmonics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1945, Steve Rogers is killed in action on a mission to capture Arnim Zola.</p><p>Colonel Phillips strikes a deal to keep Captain America alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this fic for a _while_ , now, and I'm happy that I finally have the chance to work on this thing. Whether or not I'll be able to _continue_ working on it, well. Let's just say I'll try my damnedest.
> 
> Now, before we start, I want to address a few things. This fic isn't immediately going to go to the events of The Winter Soldier. Instead, I want to explore what the MCU would be like if Bucky was forced to take up the shield, so this fic will follow _him_ \- not Steve - through the remainder of CATFA, The Avengers, and CATWS.
> 
> Which brings me to that Major Character Death tag: no, Steve isn't the major character who's dead. That's someone else down the line. I don't want to spoil it, but... they're an Avenger. So if you don't want anyone dead, be advised - someone's dead.
> 
> Tags will be added as this thing progresses (I don't want to lure people here with promises when the contents of that tag won't show up here for another two months).

_“You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not_  
           _harmless. You are not_  
                     _breathing._

_Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake_  
                       _and dress them in warm clothes again. ”_  


**– Richard Siken, Crush**

* * *

It was simple, really.

The HYDRA soldier got the drop on them, Steve wasn't ready to take the hit, and he got blasted into the wall while Bucky hit the deck. Now Steve was laying prone, slow and groggy, and the soldier was priming his gun again, stepping towards him. The shield – wrenched from Steve's arm after deflecting the beam to the opposite wall – was only lying two feet away, and Bucky still had several bullets left in his clip.

_You're not dying, not today, you damned punk, not as I breathe._

He curled his fingers around the strap and staggered to his feet, holding the shield over his center mass while raising his pistol. Basic cover fire: get behind cover and fire on the enemy until your brother in danger can get to safety.

The guy was in a metallic suit of armor, and he had no idea where the weak points were, but a few good bullets to the joints got him to turn away from Steve and towards him.

The gun finished priming and fired.

It was like being hit by an artillery shell – for the shield, at least – and the shield went one way and his  body went another, shot into a sudden blast of _freezing-wind-and-rattling-metal_ -

Survival instinct took over and he flailed, clawed at the first thing his hands came into contact with, and clung. Everything in the world seemed to melt away except for the single instinct screaming _survive_.

Distantly, he registered an orange flash from the inside of the car, a blue flash, a sharp and violent clang, and suddenly- _Steve_. Steve was there, leaning out of the blasted wall, a beacon for his eyes and senses to focus on.

Steve stared at him with a wild look in his eye for a split second before ducking back inside. Before Bucky could even have an emotional response to that, he was back, his left hand curled around a strap of his shield. He inched out alongside the train-car, using his right hand to hold onto a rail much like the one Bucky was clinging to if not for the fact that Bucky's was attached to the car only by the very tips of its bolts.

Steve stretched out his left arm, holding the shield towards where he was dangling, and bellowed, “ _Grab the strap! Grab it!_ ”

Bucky's blank terror wanted him to do nothing more but _not move_ , but one look at the crazed desperation on Steve's face and Bucky found himself inching closer. When the rail gave a low groaning noise and he heard metal snap, he launched himself off of it right as it began to fall, snatching the strap, white-knuckled. At the same moment, Steve gave a roar of effort and used his whole body to hurl – there was a faint _crack!_ mid-swing –  Bucky and the shield around him and back into the train-car.

Bucky and the shield tumbled to the floor in the middle of the car. His vision went dark for a beat, then cleared, slowly, as he registered the ringing in his ears and the pounding beat of his heart in his head. His right hand was still clenched rigidly around the shield's strap.

He looked up, and saw Steve hanging onto the bottom of the car in the middle of the hole with his right arm and leg slung over the bar. His left arm was curled gingerly against his torso, but he didn't seem very concerned.

No, not concerned at all. He was mostly staring, unblinking, chest heaving. Bucky stared back. Then Steve smiled and and breathed out a chuckle, then another; Bucky smiled and started chuckling, too, and soon they were both smiling and laughing with each other, because they were _alive_.

That was when they heard the low groan of metal. They stopped laughing and snapped their gazes downwards.

The bar along the bottom of the train-car lurched downwards once, twice – Bucky scrambled forward with a shriek of “ _Steve!_ ” and lunged towards him, trying to snatch his hand – their fingertips brushed – Bucky registered his pale, petrified face, and then he was gone.

–

Steve Rogers died screaming.


	2. Aftermath

The Commandos – Dum Dum, Morita, Dernier, and Falsworth – all stood in a cluster at the rendezvous beside a rickety wooden water tower. The train should have been arriving any minute, hopefully cleared out by their three comrades.

Soon enough they heard the screeching of metal breaks, and the big hulking engine chugged past them and slowed to a halt. The group started whooping and hollering and rushed forwards through the snow to congratulate their teammates.

A train-car door opened and Gabe walked out, grim-faced, frog-marching Zola in front of him. A single look from him silenced their celebration. They looked behind him into the car.

Dum Dum's moustache twitched. “Where's Cap and Sarge?”

Gabe shrugged and shook his head. “I haven't seen them, I don't know-”

All of the sudden they heard slow, heavy footfalls. Dernier and Morita drew their pistols, prompting Falsworth to signal hold.

Sergeant Barnes appeared in the doorway, alone, then stared at them all blankly. There were dried tear-stains on his cheeks, and the Captain's shield hung from his right hand.

Gabe's jaw dropped. Dernier and Morita lowered their pistols, stunned.

“No,” Falsworth whispered. “No.”

Bucky opened his mouth and worked his throat, but couldn't seem to form words. Dum Dum started to walk towards him, taking off his hat, when they all heard a high-pitched clicking noise.

Everyone looked at Zola, who was grinning ear-to-ear. His clicks finally dissolved into giggles, his giggles into laughter, his laughter into harsh, half-hysterical barks.

Before Gabe could back-hand him across the head, Bucky threw the shield down into the snow, leaped from the car, and charged.

“ _You sick fucking Nazi bastard!_ ” he screamed, clamping his hand around his throat, wrenching him out of Gabe's grasp, and lifting him single-handedly into the air. He carried him forwards and slammed him against a tree. “ _I'm going to fucking kill you!_ ”

Just as he pulled back his free fist, Gabe and Dum Dum were there, grabbing at his arms and trying to haul him off. Bucky dug in his heels and tried to get closer, pulling them with him; Falsworth, Morita, and Dernier joined in, and together they wrangled Bucky away as Zola fell to the ground, coughing violently and rubbing his throat.

“Sergeant! _Sergeant!_ ” Gabe snapped. Dum Dum clapped him hard on the back and soothed, “Buck, Bucky, hey, you need to _calm_ -” Falsworth blocked his line of sight and yelled, “We need to bring him in _alive_ , Barnes, or this entire mission will have been for _nothing!_ ”

Dernier, meanwhile, had walked over to Zola where he was crawling through the snow and planted his foot on Zola's back. He clicked the safety off his pistol and growled, “N'y pense même pas, salaud.”

Bucky wiggled free and collapsed, then crawled towards the shield. He stopped once he reached it, resting one hand on it while the other curled into his hair. He rocked himself gently, staring at the shield and shaking his head.

There was the sound of crunching snow, then Morita slowly knelt down in front of him. “Hey. Sergeant. Sergeant?” Bucky glanced up at him. “Are you hurt?” Bucky stared at him for a long moment, squinted, then shook his head. “Okay, um. If you don't mind me asking, sir... what _was that_ back there?”

“We have to find him,” Bucky whispered.

Morita cleared his throat. “Sergeant...” He slowly lifted a hand and placed it on Bucky's shoulder; he didn't respond. “Bucky... what happened on the train?”

–

Gabe fiddled with the dials on the field radio and pressed the headphones to his ear. “This is Private Gabriel Jones; mission successful, but team FUBAR. Requesting immediate extraction for package and permission for a prolonged stay.” He looked up at the others; Morita and Dum Dum sitting with Bucky, Dernier sitting on Zola with Falsworth accompanying him while endlessly wringing his hands.

“I can't say any more, sir. I hope you understand.” Gabe looked back at the radio. “Colonel, sir, another thing- something, um, happened. With Sergeant Barnes. Something... You're gonna want to see it, sir.”

–

The SSR was trying to intimidate him. They were having mixed success.

Zola examined the sterile white walls, the plain cot, the speckles of blood on the floor. The double mirror. He had worked in worse conditions than this. Compared to the war, the room was a grand hotel, but the room wasn't the danger.

The SSR had lost their beloved Captain. And while the thought filled him with a kind of serendipitous euphoria, he did not know how much blood they wanted in return.

He was startled when the door opened and Phillips walked in holding a tray. He put it down onto the table with a clatter, stared at him with eyes of the devil, and ordered, “Sit.” Zola did.

He looked at the 'food' on the tray. “What is this?”

Phillips whipped several papers out from underneath the tray and sat down heavily. “Steak.”

Zola swallowed. “What is in it.”

Phillips hadn't blinked yet. “Cow.” He slowly folded his hands. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get that prime cut out here?” Then he smiled.

Zola slowly leaned back. “I don't eat meat.”

Phillips's eyes narrowed. “Why not.”

Zola pursed his lips, then said, “It disagrees with me.”

“How about cyanide, does that give you the _mumbly-tumbly_ too?” Phillips dragged the tray over to his end, picked up the fork and knife, and began to eat the steak. He finally blinked. “If you had a pill, you would have popped it as soon as Private Jones got his hands on you. So here's how it is. You were Schmidt's right-hand man, and you know everything we want to know. And capturing you cost us a national icon, so answer me this, doctor, _how good of a position do you think you're in right now?_ ”

Zola smiled thinly. “Are you trying to intimidate me, Colonel?”

Phillips shrugged. “I brought you dinner.” He slid the papers over.

Zola gingerly picked them up. “Given the brilliant information he provided, and in exchange for his full cooperation, Dr. Zola is being remanded to Switzlerland...?”

“You have two choices, Doctor. Either you give us what we want, and things will be very pleasant for you. Or you don't give us what we want, and, well.” Phillips shrugged again and took another bite of steak. “It's fun to think about which one would be worse for you. Schmidt... or us?”

Zola took a deep breath. “Schmidt believes he walks in the footsteps of the gods. Only the world itself will satisfy him.”

“You do realize that's nuts, don't you?”

Zola lifted a shoulder. “The sanity of the plan is of no consequence.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he can _do_ it!”

“What's his target?”

“His... target...” Zola leaned forward, “...is _everywhere_.”

Phillips stood up abruptly, turned to the guard, and ordered, “Break his fingers.”

When the guard advanced, he squealed, “ _Wait!_ Every major city! Every major city in the world, he has the firepower, all that's left is the plan, the Valkyrie, I can show you where it is!”

Phillips laughed and sat down again. “ _Now_ we're talking _business_ instead of _games_ , Doctor! But unfortunately for you, our best team of soldiers is scouring a god-forsaken gully right now looking for the body of their brother-in-arms, so I'm going to need something more than just a _location_.”

“What Sergeant Barnes did to me.” Zola delicately lifted his hand to the purple hand-shaped bruise around his throat. “You know of this?”

Phillips smirked. “I read the report.”

“What did you make of it?”

“I've seen the rage of grieving men too many times to count, Doctor.” Phillips shook his head. “Even then, the fittest of them wouldn't have the strength to carry a man like you like a rag-doll, let alone drag along half his unit.”

“You are... upset... at the loss of your Captain.” Zola grinned, then placed his hands on the table. “I can give you a _new one_.”

Phillips remained quiet for a long, heavy moment. Finally, he leaned forward. “I'm listening.”

–

The rumbling roar of the B-29 Superfortress was the only noise surrounding the Commandos on the night flight to England.

The dark, dim-lit, metallic cabin was silent as the unit kept themselves busy doing things that didn't involve talking. Some of the men were trying to sleep, others were cleaning their guns in the dark. Bucky was sitting still, hugging the shield and resting his chin on the rim, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Dum Dum was sitting on his right, endlessly twirling his bowler hat around a finger; Gabe sat on his left, the side of the cockpit, curled into himself with his arms crossed and his eyes shut, breathing too uneven to be asleep.

All of them were refusing to look towards the back of the troop hold and the box that sat there.

Eventually, Bucky gave a harsh twitch, tearing his gaze from the wall to stare at the floor. Dum Dum dropped his hat and Gabe opened his eyes.

After picking his hat up from the floor, Dum Dum grunted, “You should sleep, Buck.”

“I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

Gabe frowned and sat up, stretching. “None us will do any good if we don't get some rest.”

Bucky side-eyed him. “What's it matter? The unit's done. We'll all be reassigned.”

Dum Dum narrowed his eyes. “You don't know that-”

Bucky sat back and knocked his head against the metal of the plane. “How can there be a Howling Commandos without a Captain America? Don't give me that shit, Dugan.”

“Hey,” Gabe snapped. “Steve wouldn't want us to just _give up-_ ”

“Steve is fucking _dead!_ ” Bucky snarled. He leaned forward again and glared at them both. “He died, _alone_ , at the bottom of a canyon, and all that's left-” tears escaped his eyes “-all that's- left of him- is a _fucking arm_ , that we found, in a mess of red- snow- _God..._ ” He hid his face in his hands. “And I wasn't _there._ ” His shoulders began to tremble.

Dum Dum slowly started rubbing a hand up and down his back. “He was like a brother to you, wasn't he?” Bucky's head moved up and down. Dum Dum sighed, slow and tired. “I can't imagine it. What it'd be like losing one of my kid brothers. Losing Cap... can't believe it. Damn. Just- damn.”

“ _It wasn't supposed to be like this_ ,” Bucky sobbed.

Gabe hung his head. “It never is, Buck. It never is.”

“He was fucking _eaten_... by _wolves_... I-I can't even _bury_... It should've been _me_ , God, it's all _my fault_...”

Slowly, Dernier staggered over to their side of the plane and squeezed in between Gabe and Bucky, shortly followed by Falsworth and Morita on the other side of Dum Dum. He took off his beret and tightly grasped Bucky's knee. He waited until Bucky looked up at him, then spoke lowly in French.

“There isn't a single one of us here who hasn't experienced loss,” Gabe translated. “Some more than others, but the point is that we are all family here, and you are not grieving alone. There was nothing you could do. It's not your fault and none of us blame you.”

Bucky stared at him, mouth open slightly, before whispering, almost in defeat, “ _It should've been me._ ”

“How dare you,” Falsworth interrupted. Everyone turned to face him. His eyes were narrowed and steely, even in the dark. “How dare you disgrace him in such a manner. Have you no respect?”

Bucky gaped for a second before blurting, “Of course I do!”

“Then respect his last choice on this Earth and stop bloody wishing it was _you_ we'd all be grieving over instead of _him!_ ”

A harsh knock on metal distracted them all towards the co-pilot standing in the doorway. “Change of plans, boys! We're turning around and headed to Switzerland!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"N'y pense même pas, salaud."_ = _Don't even think about it, bastard._


	3. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, I promise.
> 
> This chapter powers through the rest of CATFA. What I initially thought beginning this fic turned out to be correct - writing how things would be different turned out to be... _really fun_ , actually.

The SSR base in Switzerland was nestled in a valley surrounded by tall trees. Tents and barracks were sprawled everywhere like a cobweb. Frost covered the grass, and the winter air seemed to paint the world in pale hues of blue.

Bucky could hardly feel the freezing wind blowing through his hair and past his cheeks as the Commandos rattled down the dirt road in an open transport truck. It was as if the numbness from the outside had leached into his core. At some point during the sleepless night, it was as if he just... shut down – emotions going dark and draining out of him, leaving him a husk of a man.

The rest of the men weren't doing much better. Gabe didn't get any sleep, either, and was spending the truck ride with his head in his hands. Bucky knew he was blaming himself, but couldn't believe it – clearly, the one responsible for Steve's death was _him_ , not Gabe. Gabe did his job. Gabe was careful, and watchful, and never let his guard down. Gabe didn't fuck it up and get Steve killed by being fucking stupid. He wished he knew how to say it; the tiny voice that spoke in cold rationality told him that it was the productive thing to do, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he leaned into his shoulder, trying to portray their shared grief through gesture.

The rest of the men managed to get one, maybe two hours of sleep. Dernier managed to get three, which meant that he was the fittest of them all to drive, so that was what he was doing. Then again, the man had seen his whole family butchered in their home by the occupant Nazis, and Steve was only the last of many friends to die.

Soldiers and agents were trickling back and forth along the paths like ants over an ant hill. Then they spotted Colonel Phillips, standing outside of the command tent with his hands behind his back, looking grave as all hell. Dernier slowed the truck to a stop beside him and shut off the engine.

“Gentlemen,” Phillips greeted, nodding his head. The Commandos clambered out of the truck, assembled in front of him, and saluted. He returned it, then soothed, “At ease. Now, men, first off I'd like to offer my sincere condolences. It's a dark hour in the European theatre.” The Commandos shifted uneasily. “Second, due to the circumstances, we don't have the luxury for calm after the storm. HYDRA is still a top-tier threat, and we still need to deal with that threat.” He looked at the six different pairs of bloodshot eyes staring back at him and grimaced. “But that won't be today. Rest. Eat. I want all of you in top-form tomorrow, am I understood?”

“ _Sir yes sir!”_

“Dismissed – except for Sergeant Barnes.”

The men began filing away towards the barracks, shooting worried glances at Bucky, but did as they were told; Bucky remained standing where he was, swaying on his feet. Phillips slowly sidled up to him, heaving a wary sigh.

Quietly, he prompted, “Are the remains with you?”

Bucky had a brief moment of nausea as he croaked, “Yessir. In the equipment hold, sir.”

“And the shield?”

“In the back of the truck, sir.”

Phillips looked over his shoulder. “Agent Dooley. Tend to the remains.” A middle-aged man with graying hair and a square head dressed in the uniform of an officer approached the truck; Bucky looked away. “Barnes, grab the shield and follow me.”

Shield in hand, Bucky followed Phillips through the flap of the command tent. A long wooden table sat in the middle, lined with chairs. A heavy desk sat in the back, covered with maps, folders, and papers. Phillips walked to his desk chair, then ordered, “Pull up a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

Once Bucky was seated, Phillips leaned forward, steepled his hands, and frowned. “Now, I want you to know that I did not come to this decision lightly.”

Bucky stared at the Colonel's face – at the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles lining his face, the frown lines arched around his mouth. His hands curled further around the strap of the shield and he swallowed, hard. “Let's hear it,” he rasped.

“We are in the unique position where none of the Allies know of Captain Rogers's death except the SSR, and none of our enemies except for Doctor Zola, who is in our custody.” Bucky stared at him. “The knowledge of Captain America's death would be a severe blow to our nation's and our soldiers' morale. He's a... hero. An icon. A symbol, that we all look up to. It's a blow that we can't afford, not now.”

Bucky painstakingly enunciated, “He's. Dead.”

Phillips raised his brows and sat up. “Nobody else has to know.”

Bucky was shaking his head, leaning back. “He... he deserves to be _mourned_ , he... They're going to notice once the... the news stories stop...”

“I did not call you to this tent to inform you that I'm not releasing news of his death, Sergeant. I called you here because I want you to fill the empty space.”

Bucky blinked rapidly then rubbed his eyes. “Empty... space...?”

“Captain America doesn't just increase the morale of us and our allies, he also decreases the morale of our enemies. Now, the day after tomorrow, I'm deploying the Commandos directly to Schmidt's headquarters.” Bucky jerked his head up and blanched. “You all have been fighting HYDRA the longest. You're the most experienced, and have the most knowledge of their tactics and capabilities. We'll hash out the plan of attack tomorrow, but _we need_ Captain America to lead this charge. That's you, son.”

“I-I can't be- No, you're- you're _wrong_ , I can't be him, I don't – I have _no right_ -”

Phillips's voice firmly overrode his protests. “You have every right.”

Bucky snapped his mouth shut and vehemently shook his head, then managed, “I- I can't do the things he does- I'm not special. People will notice.”

Phillips stretched and grunted, “Well, I don't know about that...” He started shuffling some folders, then opened one up and started sorting through typed reports. “You manhandled Doctor Zola, a decently heavy man, like he was a rag-doll. You then proceeded to pin him single-handedly to a tree while shrugging off five trained soldiers.”

Bucky sat back fully in his chair and let the shield rest against his knees, crossing his arms over his middle. “A fluke. Sir. Nothing but strength lent by hatred.”

Phillips set the report aside and continued reading. “Then there was the time in Germany where you were shot point-blank in the abdomen, and after being stabilized by field-medic Morita, an extraction team was sent to transport you to the nearest troop hospital for recovery. Upon arrival, your wound was already healed and you were deemed fit for duty. A _gut-shot_ , Barnes.”

“I ate my vegetables.”

Phillips gave Bucky a flat look. “You refused a full medical assessment after the prison camp in Austria. There's no telling what you're truly capable of.”

Bucky hung his head. “Nothing that could've kept up with Steve.”

“Recent interrogations of Doctor Zola have suggested otherwise.”

Just as Bucky began to look up, eyes wide and jaw clenched, the sound of a roaring engine, screeching breaks, and thrown dirt sounded from outside. There was the sound of slamming car doors, then a woman's voice yelling, “ _Where is he?!_ ”

Phillips closed his eyes and winced.

Agent Carter stormed into the tent, swiftly followed by Howard Stark; she looked at Phillips and began, “Is it-” then saw Bucky. She looked at his face, then down at the shield, then back up to his face. She heaved a breath, then brokenly demanded, “Is it _true?_ ”

Bucky couldn't stand the look on her face, the bared teeth and the pleading eyes; he looked at the ground, began to say something, then haltingly nodded.

Peggy made a noise and he risked looking again; her fists were balled at her sides and tears spilled over and onto her cheeks. She shook, slightly, her jaw clenched. Howard, in contrast, resembled an oil lamp being extinguished – all light vanished from his face like a puff of smoke, replaced by still darkness.

Peggy walked over to the nearest chair, pulled it out, and sat down heavily. Howard meandered over to a corner and crossed his arms, curling into himself.

Phillips started rubbing his forehead. “If you two don't mind...?”

Bucky looked directly at Peggy and said, “He wants me to replace Steve.”

“ _You what?”_

Phillips looked at the three of them – Bucky, glaring; Peggy, sneering; Howard, squinting. He sighed and slumped. “I was just informing Sergeant Barnes here of his options.”

“Of what options?” Peggy demanded.

Phillips seemed to hesitate for a second; then, his face hardened and he squared his shoulders. “The fact is that _Steve Rogers is dead and his body irrecoverable_. Now, we took all the samples we could ever need after Rebirth, but the redevelopment of the serum is years if not decades away. So we're left without a super-soldier while HYDRA's is running roughshod. Zola's no Erskine-”

“Just like a rat turd's no chocolate bar,” Howard quipped.

Phillips shot him a glare, “-but he says that Barnes is one treatment away from matching Rogers.”

Peggy leaned forward, menacing, elbows on her knees. “Doctor Arnim Zola? The man who held this poor man under torture? Exactly what kind of 'treatment' is he suggesting?”

“Something similar to the end process of Rebirth. Exposure to some million-odd volts to speed up the absorption rate of his serum by ten percent.”

“That's barbaric,” Peggy spat.

Howard shrugged. “Vita radiation was technically worse.” Bucky slowly looked over his shoulder and stared him down. Howard's moustache twitched. “I designed that machine to be as humane as scientifically possible. I put my heart, mind, and soul into the damn thing, okay? My work wasn't sloppy. He didn't have to go through anything more than he absolutely had to.” He looked up at Phillips. “Which is why I want to volunteer to administer the treatment, sir. If...” he looked back down at Bucky, “Barnes will have me.”

“Hold on a moment,” Peggy interrupted. “How do we know if Zola's serum will even work? And that it would match Erskine's?” She scoffed. “ _Really?_ What if he just wants to kill Barnes to tie off the last loose end?”

Phillips sat back in his chair. “ _Something's_ better than nothing at this point. At least he'd have a _chance_ against Schmidt. And I'm not concerned about sabotage; Zola's a smart man. He knows that crossing us means us hanging him out to dry for the buzzards, and besides, Schmidt sees him as a weakness now. All he'd get if he went back would be a bullet in the brain.”

“I think,” Howard hazarded, “it's time to ask Barnes _his_ opinion.”

The three of them all turned to Bucky and waited, expectant. Bucky was silent, and remained silent, sitting curled into himself with his eyes closed.

Phillips sighed and slowly leaned forward again. “I'm not going to _force_ you to do anything, son.” A beat. “You've been through hell, and I'm just asking you to go through it all over again, but I ask for the best reasons imaginable. Now... you just say the word, and... we'll let you go with an honorable discharge, re-assign the Commandos. You can go home with a chest full of medals. Spend the rest of the war with your family.” Bucky opened his eyes and glanced up at him. “Or you can finish what Captain Rogers started and carry on his legacy.” Bucky paled and looked away. He was completely silent. Phillips took a deep breath, then quietly prompted, “Think of what Steve would want.”

Through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, Bucky hissed, “I'll do it.” After another pause, “I'll be Captain America. On one condition.” He looked Phillips in the eye. “I get to stay with my men.”

Phillips smiled. “Then on behalf of the SSR, I'd like to congratulate you on your promotion.”

–

“Now, unfortunately, we don't have the time to go back to Brooklyn and put you in the big fancy _safe_ lab, but I've done all I was able to do in five hours.”

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat. In the middle of the prison basement, a large and dim-lit room with sterile colors, was an imposing tesla coil that almost reached the ceiling. Beside it was something that looked terrifyingly similar to an electric chair. Adrenaline flooded him awake, his heartbeat pounding between his ears like a war-drum.

“I thought this was going to be a science experiment, not a _damn execution!_ ”

Howard turned to him and slowly raised his hands. “Whoa, pal. The alternative to this is strapping a lightning rod to your head and dropping you into the middle of a storm. This is the safest I can make it with the time table I was given. Here, I'll explain how it works.” He walked over to the tesla coil, then gestured extravagantly at the chair. “Old Sparky back home uses alternating currents to fry your brain and vital organs. It takes a hell of a long time and is, I think, personally, savage. I am _not_ doing that to you. This sweet thing-” he quirked his head towards the coil “-is going to zap into this thing-” he pointed at what looked to be a bizarre light bulb on a stand behind the chair “-which will gather only enough electricity that we need, and once we get enough, it discharges through these wires, through all these electrodes, zapping your entire body at once! It should only take a _fraction_ of a second, _zap_ , one and done!”

“This is the most hair-brained, reckless, senseless, _stupid_ fucking thing I've ever seen.”

Phillips's voice suddenly said, “Zola insisted on doing this, y'know.” Bucky whirled to see him leaning against the doorway. “I wasn't planning on Mr. Stark making his surprise visit. I turned the diagnostics over to him and let him loose as a personal favor to you. Zola still thinks he's going to sink his dirty claws into you; we have him sitting in isolation. We decided not to tell him. And trust me, his plan wasn't nearly as considerate.”

Bucky's hands curled into fists. “You expecting a _thank you?_ ”

“The only person who can keep you here is _you_ , Barnes. Now are you going to go through with this or not?”

Bucky looked at Howard, then at Phillips, then at the chair, then back to Howard. He swallowed again. “Okay.” He shed his jacket, then his two under-shirts. After a brief moment of hesitation, he also removed his dog-tags, depositing them all on the floor.

Howard patted the seat with a smile, and Bucky warily walked over and sat down. Gently, Howard clasped his arm with a warm hand and lifted the leather buckle to secure his wrist – as soon as he felt the leather on his skin Bucky surged out of the chair and blurted, “ _I can't do this._ ” He began to pace the room, trembling and cursing. Howard crossed his arms and looked away, uncomfortable.

Phillips inclined his head. “We'll give you a minute.”

After two minutes of anxious pacing, he heard the sound of six pairs of feet hurrying down the hallway. He immediately looked up and saw Peggy Carter, with Dum Dum, Gabe, Dernier, Morita, and Falsworth behind her. They all filed through the door and formed a tight cluster, looking various degrees of comfortable, but all of them encouraging. He immediately went to them.

Dernier was first in line. He clasped Bucky's hands between his, squeezed, smiled, and said, “Nous sommes là pour tu.”

Bucky actually managed a smile. “Merci.”

He continued down the line, receiving gruff words of encouragement and claps on his arms or back. When he reached Peggy, Peggy squared her shoulders, glanced at the ground, then looked back up at him. “Good luck, Barnes,” she said, quietly.

His smile slid off of his face, but his expression remained soft. He nodded at her. “Thank you, ma'am.” Hesitant, he extended his hand. She took it, and they shook, firm.

Bucky took a long, deep breath, before turning on his heel. He strode over to the chair, sat down, looked up at Howard, and ordered, “Make it quick.”

As all the others bustled out of the room to hover in the doorway, Howard deftly strapped him in, attached the electrodes, pulled down his goggles, and went to the switch. “Alright! 3, 2, 1...”

–

The first thing he became aware of was warmth.

Warily, he worked his muscles, feeling the press of a hard army cot beneath his back. Cold metal slid across his bare chest and jingled; dog-tags. There was a heavy itch that suggested a wool blanket.

Bucky opened his eyes and squinted at the ceiling of the military tent. It was tall, spacious. Room to stand in. Were they back at base? Was -

A smile lit up his face. He turned and propped himself on his elbow and began to say, “Steve-”

Dum Dum was sitting by his bedside, sleeping. When he heard him speak, he shook himself awake, blinked, then beamed. “Sarge! Dang, you're looking swell. A hell of a lot better than yesterday.”

Bucky huffed a laugh and sat up, fully – his uniform pants and his socks were still on. What the hell happened? “Nice to know I kicked it. I'm hungry as a horse, though.”

Dum Dum grinned, leaned forward, and clasped him hard on the shoulder. “Well you damn well better be. You haven't eaten in, what, two days? I'll go rustle some up for you. You're gonna need your strength for what Phillips has planned for you today.”

“Phillips...?” Bucky began, but Dum Dum was already out of the tent. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Absently, he put his boots back on. His body felt like it was on Cloud 9 – it was the first time in forever since he couldn't feel any aches or pains. Despite his hunger, he felt... safe. Yet somehow there was still a sour feeling in the back of his throat, like he was missing something. Something terrible.

There were footsteps outside the tent. The flap moved again, and in walked Peggy Carter. She smiled at him, hollow, and said, “I thought you'd want this back.” She held up Steve's shield.

Steve's shield. _Grab the strap! Grab it!_

The gaping chasm opened up in Bucky's chest again, taking his sense of peace with it. It drained him in seconds. He returned her smile, feeling oddly indecent in front of her without a shirt on, and said, “Thank you, ma'am.” He stood up and went to take the shield. Once he grabbed hold of the rim, Peggy held on for several seconds before gently letting go.

Peggy wasn't meeting his eyes anymore. “I suggest you get dressed and eat well, Sergeant Barnes. Phillips expects you within the hour.” With that, she turned and left the tent.

Bucky watched her go, then stared at the tent flap for a minute. He wasn't feeling anything. Wasn't thinking much of anything, either. Finally, he set the shield down on the cot and began hunting down his shirts.

–

In the end, Bucky managed to bench one thousand pounds and sprint a hundred yards in 10.3 seconds.

Phillips rubbed his temples as he stared at the statistics at the head of the command table. Bucky sat on the other end, red and soaked with sweat, surrounded by the other Commandos who seemed torn between pride and melancholy. The base was still in a giddy uproar outside. Howard and Peggy sat at Phillips's sides, looking grave.

“It's half of what Erskine's was...” Phillips hedged, “but it's still a hell of a thing. You're a super-soldier in every sense of the word.” He sat back in his seat and steepled his hands. “Which means that we can proceed as planned. Being the looney-bird that Schmidt is, he thinks he's a god, and is willing to blow up half the world to prove it – and according to my new best friend, that's going to be within the next twenty-four hours.”

Howard scooted forward. “I've read the reports you men turned in about the assembly of the Valkyrie and grilled Zola myself. Schmidt has enough firepower to blow up the entire eastern seaboard in less than an hour.”

Phillips pushed forward pictures taken from a surveillance flight. “Schmidt's lair is located five-hundred feet below the Swiss Alps.” The Commandos frowned and shifted. “Unfortunately, it's heavily guarded, and the only viable way in is down its gullet – but we can't just do a full-frontal assault.”

“Well why the fuck not?” Bucky drawled. Everyone turned to look at him.

–

They gave him a spare Captain America uniform, hemmed it to his smaller frame, gave him one of Howard's prototype warcycles, handed him the shield, and ordered him to give them hell.

He roared through the wilderness, burning and exploding and breaking dozens upon dozens of Nazis. Eventually, he blasted into their main encampment, snapped a few necks with the shield and broke a few spines, before he was finally pinned and surrounded. He was well and truly captured.

So everything was going according to plan.

They marched him through Schmidt's base and into the main science chamber itself. Schmidt, being the dramatic bastard that he was, was standing facing away.

“I admit, America is not the only country prone to arrogance, but you have gone above and beyond even the worst of them.” He turned and slowly approached, hands behind his back. “So tell me...” he began, then paused. His ugly skull squinted and scanned his face, upper lip curled in disdain. He looked at his forehead, blinked, then looked down at his eyes. “What's this?” he purred. “You're not the same man I faced on that bridge, and yet...” His hand flew up and snatched him by the chin, fingertips squeezing into his cheeks, tilting his head upwards. Bucky bared his teeth. “I know your face... _Ah_ , yes, now I remember. You're Zola's dog.”

He back-handed him across the face, used his other hand to punch him, then kneed him in the stomach. Bucky grunted and fell to his knees, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

The Red Skull continued, an almost hysteric note to his voice. “The SSR seeks to insult me by sending me a diseased lab rat without fully realizing what this means. Where's the _real_ Captain America, dog? Hmm? Where's Abraham Erskine's beloved prodigy?” Bucky sneered up at him. “Is he dead? _Aha_ , is he?!”

“It doesn't matter,” Bucky growled. He cleared his throat and smirked. “You're still gonna die.”

“I do not fear Zola's chew-toy.”

Suddenly, there was the sound of splintering rock from outside the windows. Schmidt and his goons turned and leaned, trying to spot what it was.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “You might not fear me, but you _should_ fear _them_.”

The windows exploded in a rain of glass and the Commandos vaulted in, guns blazing. Schmidt turned back and snarled, lifting his gun and firing – Bucky yanked the goon on his right in front of him as a shield and jerked back as he was atomized. The goon on his left fell, shot dead, and Schmidt was forced to flee out the doors. Bucky shattered his cuffs and got back on his feet.

“ _Barnes!_ ” Falsworth hollered. “You might need this!”

Bucky turned and caught the shield. “Thanks, Monty!” he yelled, then gave chase.

–

Schmidt fled down the mountain base through the tunnels. Bucky did his best to follow, killing any HYDRA agent he came across. He managed to spy a red skull racing around a corner and immediately hurled the shield – it pinged around the bend and disappeared from sight.

He was immediately flanked. He shot dead the HYDRA agent in front of him and barely managed to duck into an alcove before the flamethrower behind him kicked on. The flamethrower-soldier slowly advanced, the heat getting more and more intense, until it suddenly stopped after a hail of machine-gun fire.

Bucky ducked back out of the alcove and saw Peggy standing in the hallway, poised with a machine-gun, looking bored. The SSR and its associated troops were flooding into the base through the hole in the wall behind her.

“Thank you, ma'am!” he chirped, then continued running after Schmidt.

“ _Don't let it happen again, Barnes!_ ” she called after him. Bucky unwedged the shield from between two electromagnetic doors and squeezed through.

After a short run, he emerged into an enormous air-hangar. The colossal Valkyrie was moving, its rotors already at full-power. He sprinted after it, almost caught it, but then it gained a boost of speed and started tearing away.

The roar of a car engine made him turn around. Colonel Phillips drove up in a ridiculous black custom-car with Peggy in the passenger seat and barked, “Hop in!”

The custom HYDRA car, no matter how goofy or ridiculous its appearance, was fast. Phillips stomped on the accelerator and throttled the gears, and soon enough they were catching up to the tail. Bucky stood up and braced himself, heart thundering in his chest. “Drive me up close to the lower deck and then turn tail!” he yelled over the snarl of the propellers.

“Wait!” Peggy half-rose out of her seat, snatched his hand and clasped it firmly in hers, then squeezed until her knuckles went white. She looked him in the eye. “For Steve.”

Bucky squeezed and stared back. “For Steve.” He looked at Phillips.

Phillips huffed a laugh and shook his head. “For the little guy!”

Bucky let go, ducked under the propeller, moved up to the hood, then leaped.

As soon as his hands clasped the ladder-rung leading to the drop-deck, the Valkyrie pulled up and into the sky. Phillips twisted the wheel around and brought the car screaming to a stop, back-tires hanging off the edge of the cliff – but they were safe. Bucky clambered inside.

In the dim light of the plane, Bucky was able to sneak through the shadows underneath the catwalks. A troop of three was marching along a bridge; he silently swung up onto the walkway behind them, pulled out three throwing knives, and threw them in quick succession. He got two in the throat, and one in the heart.

Four more soldiers were coming around the bend – Bucky drew his pistol and shot three of them dead. The fourth one leaped inside a fighter drone and started lowering the glass dome; Bucky hurled the shield and it pinged off his neck before skittering out onto the metal floor. The drone dropped out of the plane and the soldier fell to earth in his metal coffin. Bucky ran over, picked up the shield, retrieved his throwing knives, then ran towards the cockpit.

Bucky tried his best to sneak up on Schmidt, but the man whirled around and fired some kind of shotgun – Bucky braced himself and deflected the shot off the shield, then rapidly fired his pistol around the cover, shooting the gun out of Schmidt's hand.

“Won't you just _give up?_ ” the Red Skull snarled.

“ _Never!_ ” Bucky snapped, then charged. The shield rammed him and sent him flying back into the controls, half destroying them and sending sparks everywhere. The plane sharply began nose-diving, sending Bucky and Schmidt floating to the ceiling. Bucky drew a knife, but Schmidt grabbed his wrist and _twisted_. Bucky dropped it with a shout, then got punched in the throat; he headbutted Schmidt and kneed him in the hip. Schmidt struck at his eyes then kicked him to the other end of the plane.

When Bucky finally got his vision back, Schmidt was down near the pilot seat and the plane was leveling off – Bucky slammed down onto the metal grating. Schmidt drew a pistol.

“ _You could have the power of the gods!_ ” Schmidt barked, then fired. Bucky dodged the energy beam then frantically started looking for the shield. “Yet you dress in stolen colors and claim allegiance to nations!” He fired again, and Bucky rolled out of the way. “I have seen the future, dog! There is only one nation!”

“Cut the imperialist crap!” Bucky snapped, then dive-rolled for the shield. An energy blast blew over his back, but the shield was in his hands; he rolled upright and blocked the next shot, then hurled it with every ounce of his strength.

The shield smashed into Schmidt's body and slammed him into the teserract array. The teserract popped out of its holder and destabilized the energy field in violent rifts of shaky blue light.

“What have you _done?!_ ” Schmidt spat, clambering to his feet and snatching the blue cube. “No...”

The teserract flickered for a moment, then... _sang_. A warbly blue pulse expanded outwards, opening a portal across the ceiling of the plane, revealing streams of stars and nebulas. The falsetto note intensified, and the cube began burning in an intense flare of light, slowly consuming Schmidt from his hand onwards. Schmidt began screaming as he was enveloped, and the blue light roared into a monstrous pillar, shooting up and into the cosmos before vanishing with one last violent pulse.

The tesseract burned its way through the floor and down to the ocean below. Bucky gulped, then clambered to his feet and staggered to the pilot's chair. He nervously scanned the controls, then grabbed the radio.

“Come in, this is Serge- Cap- _Barnes_ , do you read me?”

Morita's voice. “ _Captain Barnes, what is your location?_ ”

“Uh...” he sat down and continued scanning the dials. His voice became more worried. “ _Uh_...”

Morita's voice, more nervous. “ _Barnes? Everything okay?_ ”

Bucky breathed out _Fuck_. “Well, uh – Schmidt's dead. The Valkyrie's compromised.”

“ _Then get out of there!_ ”

“Not that easy, Jim.”

“ _The hell it is! Barnes, give me your coordinates, we'll see if you can safely land-_ ”

“There's nothing safe about this thing. The yoke's wedged, I can only control the altitude, and the autopilot on this thing has it aimed straight for New York.”

There was a commotion over on the other end. He thought he heard Dum Dum bellow, “ _Howard!_ ”

“There's no time! This thing is too fast, I-” his voice shook a little “-I have to put it down.”

A voice that might have been Falsworth yelled, “ _Barnes, don't be a git!_ ”

Gabe's voice became very clear. “ _Buck, don't do this, there's time, there's always time!_ ”

“I'm surrounded by nothing but ice right now, if I go much further people are going to _die_ , Gabe.”

“ _Then lock the yoke-!” “Jump-!” “Do- something!_ ”

“Fellas? Let me have this last choice.”

There was silence on the radio. Bucky trembled for a moment, then pushed the yoke forward. The nose dived, the sky disappeared, and water and ice filled his view.

“Fellas?” he prompted, quiet.

“ _Bucky_.”

“Tell my... tell my family I love them, okay?”

“ _Yeah. Yeah... we will._ ”

“And, uh...” He blinked back tears. “Tell my sisters they're strong.”

“ _We will. We promise._ ”

“And- and Peggy? You there?”

“ _I'm here, Barnes._ ”

“You make sure Steve has a proper funeral, alright? Make sure he's taken care of. _Please_. He doesn't have anyone else.”

The ice was coming fast.

“ _I... I will._ ”

The ice was coming so fast.

“I'm so sorr-”

–

_*shhhtick*_

–

 _*shhhtick*_ “ _This is a solemn, but glorious hour. I wish that Franklin D. Roosevelt had lived to see this day. General Eisenhower informs me that the forces of Germany have surrendered to the United Nations. The flags of freedom fly all over Europe-” *shhhtick*_

–

Alex heaved his painted trash-can-lid/shield into the air and continued the charge into the alleyway. “Onwards, Commandos!”

“ _Wait up, Pierce!”_

–

“Sir?”

Howard turned to face the ship crewman, pulled out of his reverie. “Hm?”

“We found the artifact, sir, but beyond this point there are no more energy signatures or signs of wreckage.”

Howard turned and stared out the window at the ocean beyond. “Call off the search, then. We're going home.”

“But, sir...”

“Finding Captain Rogers in all of this ice and ocean is an impossible feat. It can't be done.”

“But Captain Rogers saved the world, he deserves-!”

“Call. Off. The search.”

“...Yessir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Nous sommes là pour tu.” = We're here for you._  
>  "Merci." = Thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Marvel voice] Captain America will return in The Avengers.**


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to re-watch the Avengers to figure out how I can deconstruct it and turn it into something different. It could take a very long while for me to get the opportunity (college/moving), so I figured a short interlude of world-building articles couldn't hurt.
> 
> If this isn't your thing, feel free to skip. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy it.

** HYDRA SLAIN BY CAPTAIN AMERICA'S HEROIC SACRIFICE **

February 27, 1945 | The New York Times

By Arthur Coulson

A somber hour for the United States marks a joyous hour for the European Theatre. HYDRA, the rogue Nazi science division, has been beheaded.

It was a cold and crisp morning this February the 26th when Captain America and his Howling Commandos stormed the lair of the Red Skull, aided by the heroic forces of the SSR. A coalition of American, British, and French fighters beat back the HYDRA horde as the Howling Commandos routed the base from within. In the mayhem, the Red Skull fled, swiftly pursued by Captain America.

Colonel Chester Phillips of the United States Army and affiliate of the SSR stated in his report: “Due to information gathered from Doctor Arnim Zola, captured in Operation Ice Run on February 23rd by our Howling Commandos, the SSR learned of a plot by Johann Schmidt (A.K.A. Red Skull) to attack every major capital city on Earth, regardless of Ally or Axis affiliation, via a prototype bomber plane 'Valkyrie.' Cross-referencing of prisoner testimony and recovered schematics suggest each individual bomb carried by the Valkyrie to be capable of destruction ten times the scale as the recent firebombing of Dresden.”

The Red Skull fled to the hangar containing the Valkyrie and succeeded in launching it with a skeleton crew, but not before our brave Captain America managed to stow aboard. The Captain proceeded to dispatch the plane's crew, and after a harrowing battle, eliminated the Red Skull forever.

Colonel Phillips' report continues: “Captain Rogers established radio contact and provided us with a damage assessment and course analysis of the Valkyrie. Damage to the cockpit rendered the yoke inoperable for all uses except altitude control. The plane's auto-targeting technology was locked on New York City. In order to protect human life, Captain Rogers reported that he was forcibly crashing the plane. Radio contact was lost at 8:42PM UTC as the Valkyrie was flying over arctic waters.”

America must mourn the loss of not one hero, but two. Sergeant James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes was reported killed-in-action on February 23rd during Operation Ice Run – only three days before Captain Steve Rogers was declared KIA on the 26th.

Colonel Phillips warns against rescue or recovery attempts: “All of our intelligence confirms that every bomb on the Valkyrie is still live and volatile. While the exact location of the crash site in unknowable, any recovery attempt, while outright suicidal, will also be deemed as a threat to the surrounding nations of Greenland, Iceland, and Norway, and will be disposed of with great prejudice.”

It is a bitter pill to swallow: our great nation will not be able to bury Rogers nor Barnes, for both their bodies are irrecoverable – but we must take heart. This is a victory for the war – tens of thousands of HYDRA soldiers have surrendered and been detained, the rest no more than rats fleeing through the gutters; our more every-day heroes overseas need no longer fear those dreaded supernatural blue lights, as the crash of the Valkyrie seemed to render all HYDRA technology inoperable. With our brave men no longer being flanked by the HYDRA dog, they are free to drive the rest of Hitler's forces into the ground and bring Germany to her knees.

With heartbreaking loss comes soul-lifting hope. Our boys sacrificed themselves to ensure our continued freedom, which now seems more secure than it has in years. Whispers on the wind suggest the war will be over by the end of this year.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt will address the nation at 8:00PM EST.

* * *

** #CaptainBarnes – Questions Raised by the Unsung Hero **

April 30, 2012 | WHiH News Online

By Kylie Greenburg

On April 13th, the Russian oil company Mailov Energy, a relatively new oil corporation, ventured out on an expedition to chart a stretch of frozen shore that most have avoided for decades. It was a risky gamble for a fledgling organization; the stretch of ice and freezing ocean hasn't been explored by any company or research team since the beginning of the 20th century.

The reason was mostly due to what was referred to as the 'Valkyrie Hazard Zone' – in February of 1945, Captain America infamously crashed the HYDRA bomber Valkyrie into the arctic ocean. The location of the crash, however, was completely unknown. This was a grave danger according to officials of the SSR (the Strategic Scientific Reserve – an international coalition of spies and scientists that preceded SHIELD); a report written by Colonel Chester Phillips on February 26th, the night of the crash, stated that each individual bomb had the destruction potential ten times that as the firebombing of Dresden. The report also stated that each bomb remained 'live and volatile.'

The 2,000 mile stretch of ocean was therefore mostly taboo the way a mine field is taboo until the end of the war in September, 1945. Worrying that countries – particularly the Soviet Union – would attempt expeditions to repurpose the bombs for their own arsenals, President Truman deployed a Naval patrol to guard the perimeter of the Valkyrie Hazard Zone. We managed to get away with this by stating that we were “defending the surrounding nations from potential harm.”

As the USA's and USSR's nuclear arsenals swelled, the more irrelevant the HYDRA bombs seemed to become (especially after the invention of the more-powerful Hydrogen bomb). When the USS Missouri mysteriously and violently exploded in 1953, sinking her and killing every member of her 1,400 crew, the Naval patrol was ordered to abandon the VHZ and return to the mainland. Incensed by the loss of “Mighty Mo” – the USS Missouri was the last battleship built by the USA, served valiantly in WWII and the Korean War, and was the site of Japan's surrender – many Americans blamed the Soviet Union for her destruction. The Soviet Union flatly denied the accusation.

The sinking of the USS Missouri remains as much a mystery as the USS Maine. When the wreckage was refloated, no evidence of missiles or mines were found. It was determined that the six explosions reported that night were caused by packages of high-explosives going off in sequence from within. Of the 1,256 bodies recovered, 1,252 were determined to have died from drowning, burns, or explosive trauma. Two had snapped necks, one a cracked skull, and one died of bullet wounds. However, the rest of the patrol reported that the USS Missouri triggered no alarms and raised no distress call.

Conspiracy theorists suggest that this was an inside job from rogue officers to discourage further investment in protecting the Valkyrie. Internet ghost stories suggest it was a Russian Spectre that was a popular horror story during the Cold War. Regardless, a beloved naval ship destroyed by unknown causes was reason enough to abandon a lost Nazi relic that was doing nothing for us but draining our resources.

With the US patrol gone and fearing no retaliation, the Soviet Union launched two expeditions – one in 1954 and one in 1979 – to comb the zone before they were called off the search. After the USSR dissolved in 1991, we largely forgot about the Valkyrie except for it as a symbol of Captain America's martyrdom. Researchers and corporations alike slowly began expanding into the rarely traversed area, barely remembering why everyone was so worried.

Mailov Energy began to chart one of the few patches that had remained abandoned – a stretch of frozen shore on the coast of Greenland, vaguely regarded as barren. What they found there was far more interesting than oil.

Beneath the ice was a massive metallic superstructure. Mailov Energy immediately staked the outline of the unknown object and came to the conclusion that it was a plane with a wingspan as wide as a football field.

The SSR concerned itself very heavily in the affairs of the Valkyrie until it was eventually usurped and absorbed by SHIELD in 1946. Therefore, it was they who Mailov Energy called.

A research team was immediately deployed to the site, where the team managed to confirm that the structure was indeed the long-lost Valkyrie. The Mailov team was ordered to evacuate while SHIELD called in reinforcements for aid in disarming the bombs.

It turns out there was nothing in the Valkyrie that could've possibly been a threat – the plane and everything in it was a frozen shell. The bombs weren't live, or even capable of being armed – theories suggest that they lost the capability when the rest of HYDRA's technology failed.

That mystery alone would have been enough for an interesting article, but they found something else.

We've all seen the images. Captain America's body was found frozen, perfectly preserved, in a layer of ice across the floor of the plane. But the hair was brown, not blonde. Another mystery. SHIELD transported the ice block to a secure facility to safely defrost it. They managed to extract the shield – _the_ shield – before they reached flesh.

When Captain America's face was revealed, it became clear that he was _not_ Steve Rogers, but his best friend, Bucky Barnes. An Extreme Mystery.

And here's the absolute, mind-blowing kicker: halfway through the defrosting procedure, someone noticed his chest moving.

Bucky Barnes, who many have already declared Captain Barnes, is _alive._ SHIELD says that he's in a coma in “critical condition” – 67 years of hypothermia might do that to you – but this is unprecedented.

Why did Colonel Phillips report the Valkyrie as an unstable threat? Why have we been lied to all these years about who crashed the plane? Why did _Barnes_ crash the plane? Why was he in the Captain America uniform, with Captain America's shield? Where is Steve Rogers? If it was Barnes who crashed the Valkyrie, was it Rogers who was killed in the Alps? Why hide this?

There are too many questions that don't have answers. If Barnes recovers and wakes up, perhaps we can get those answers straight from the horse's mouth. Here's to hoping he makes a speedy recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was about time the Winter Soldier made a cameo.


	5. Gone

The first thing he became aware of was warmth.

The second thing was the deep, scratchy drone of a man's voice on a radio. He flexed his hands and felt soft cloth. He was lying flat. He could breathe.

He opened his eyes.

Beige. Washed white walls, green trim, gray carpet, cream curtains. A radiator. A ceiling fan. A bedroom.

Slow and cautious, he sat up. He wasn't in the Captain America uniform, but in a SSR shirt and khaki slacks. Inhale. Exhale. He scanned the room more thoroughly; if he was in a hospital room, it certainly had the works. The furniture was nicer than it would be in any hospital near the front, and Sergeant or not, he doubted he'd get his own lodgings-

Something was wrong.

Hair raising on the back of his neck, he looked back at the radio.

_Here's the pitch._ The hit of a baseball bat. _Wide to the right! Patty gets back his rhythm! Three runs to score! Riker gets to third!_ Steve was sitting next to him in the stands, yelling himself hoarse and spilling their popcorn that Bucky paid nineteen cents for. It was the most alive he'd been the whole year. Bucky stopped dating for five whole months so they could go to that game. _It looks like it's gonna be a grand slam!_

The door opened just then and a strange, pale woman walked in. Not an officer. Not an agent. Hair was against regulations; the SSR wouldn't tolerate what she was wearing as any kind of uniform – improper dress shirt and skirt, flimsy tie. Did a civilian break in?

“Morning.” She smiled, a kind of empty, practiced smile, then closed the door. She walked closer, checking her wrist. “Or... should I say afternoon?” Her voice was soft, and all of her actions were slow, gentle, disarming. Something inside Bucky screamed _danger_.

Clearing his throat, he worked his mouth a moment, then rasped, “Who do you work for?”

She smiled again, like a doll. “The SSR. You're safe now.”

She wasn't wearing a bra. Or, she _was_ , but no bra that they sold in America. Or Britain. Or France. Or Europe. The crowd continued to cheer over the radio behind the announcer's voice, just as he remembered.

He took his time standing up, getting his bearings on feet that shouldn't- he wasn't supposed to- Oh.

Oh, no.

The table.

“This isn't real,” he announced calmly.

The woman smiled. “It's understandable if you're disoriented, but I assure y-”

In two quick steps Bucky seized her, twisted her arm behind her back, and locked his arm around her throat. Immediately the door was thrown open and armored men crowded the entry-way, wielding strange and alien weapons.

“Take one step and she dies, you Nazi _fucks!_ ” he yelled, dragging her backward. The woman was calmly shaking her head.

The men slowly raised their hands. “Captain Barnes, nobody has to-”

Bucky took his opening. He threw the woman towards the group crowding the doorway then immediately turned and hurtled through the wall. Plywood and plaster exploded outwards as he tumbled onto a dark concrete floor in a cavernous room. Of course, of course, of _course_ -

He scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the double-doors leading away from the yelling group. Behind him, he could hear the woman shakily announce into her transponder, “All agents, Code 13-”

He ran into a yawning, open hallway, swarming with figures in dark suits and uniforms. As soon as the agents heard the woman's voice over the intercom, they started towards him, shouting. Bucky locked his eyes onto the exit and charged straight for freedom, ducking and dodging his attackers.

He fled out the front doors and sprinted into the – the city street? – across wet pavement and- what kind of cars- the buildings were too- who were these people-?! No, no, no, no, no-

He was in Times Square and yet not in Times Square. He was in some kind of fantasy world or alternate reality. This wasn't _his_ New York, it was something alien, _unnatural_. There were too many colors, there were too many lights, there were too many people.

Strange cars full of more strange people surrounded him with screeching tires and boxed him in. He was preparing to fight his way out again when he heard, “At ease, soldier.”

He turned around and saw the authoritative figure of an older black man, dressed entirely in dark colors, wearing a trench-coat and an eye-patch. He was standing with his hands clasped behind his back in front of the soldiers, who were looking at him for direction.

All thoughts of HYDRA banished from his mind, Bucky, chest heaving and hands shaking, allowed the man to approach.

The man stopped roughly four feet away, looked him easily in eye, and said, “Look. I'm sorry about that little show back there, but... we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

Bucky cleared his throat and managed, “What's 'it'?”

The man blinked, his expression marble. “You've been asleep, Barnes. For almost seventy years.”

Inhale. Exhale. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up this wasn't _real_ wake up. Any second he'd see Zola's leering face through the drug cloud, he would, he-

“You gonna be okay?”

Bucky dug his fingernails into his arm. He felt the pain, but nothing changed. Inhale. Exhale.

He felt nothing.

“Yeah,” he responded, flat.

–

Bucky sat in the wooden chair next to the window and stared out into the night. Rain gently whispered against the window, water refracting light in blurs of reds and yellows and pinks. The buildings sprawled outwards across the city, tall and imposing, showing lights through their windows in various patterns of on and off. The cars of the future continued to rumble around the city blocks. He was still half-expecting them to float up from their wheels and fly.

Everything in SHIELD's New York base was still and quiet. They put Bucky in a room – an actual, future bedroom, not a mockery of his own time – and let him be. The man from earlier, who informed Bucky his name was Nick Fury, promised him that he'd receive all the answers to all his questions come morning.

One of those questions would definitely be why the hell they were named _SHIELD_.

Bucky turned and looked at the round, nondescript clock hanging on the wall. 2:01 AM. The bed and its bland covers remained untouched; the night-stand remained empty; the sole table in the room was bare and Bucky was sitting in the only chair. The walls were a vibrant white and the carpet was steel-gray. In the bathroom were Bucky's sole possessions, given to him in a bag by a stuttering, balding white man in his late fifties who couldn't meet his eye: a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a bottle of something “3-in-1 for Men,” and the bag itself. Nobody asked for the clothes on his back to be returned, so Bucky assumed ownership of those, too.

The shield, leaning against the bed-frame, was still Steve's as far as Bucky was concerned.

Bucky turned his attention back to the rain pattering against the window and felt certain that he was dead. There was no other explanation for the way he felt. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry, wasn't thirsty. And inside – the nothingness. It was as if he was watching his body from somewhere far away; it moved and walked and talked on its own, and he didn't have to do anything. Didn't have to feel anything.

No. Wait. That wasn't right. He did feel one thing: regret. The woman who he held hostage – she wasn't a Nazi. Had he hurt her? How badly? He wasn't supposed to hurt innocent people, dead or hallucinating he may be.

A mission. Direction. Good.

He warily stood from his chair and looked around the room again. The rain cast skittery shadows across the walls. Barefoot, he walked to the door and tried the knob; locked. Bucky frowned at it. He could hear the guard breathing on the other side.

“Is this really necessary?” he drawled.

The lock clicked and the door swiftly opened, revealing the pale face of a kid a few years younger than he was, probably in his early twenties. He was dressed in the armored uniform of the guards from earlier, and his hair was cut close, army-style. His eyes were wide and startled and very brown.

“Is there something you need, sir?” the kid hazarded. He was armed only with a pistol and some weird stick.

Bucky considered shoving past him, but the last shreds of his decency urged him otherwise. “Do you know where anyone is in this place?”

“Um.” The kid blinked. “I'm new.”

Bucky sighed. “Just let me through, pal.”

“W-why?” the kid asked, even as he stepped aside.

“I wanna apologize to someone.” Bucky stepped past him and into the hallway; someone earlier was telling him that this ward was used for out-of-city agents who needed overnight lodging but couldn't risk hotels. He turned and started towards the elevator; the kid began following.

Bucky looked over his shoulder. “Stop.”

The kid froze. “But.”

Bucky slowed and turned around, then winked. “It'll be our little secret. I'll be back before you know it.” His voice was monotone and expressionless, but Bucky couldn't be brought to care.

The kid bit his lip, then stiffly nodded. “Okay, Captain.” He saluted.

Something ugly stabbed through Bucky's chest at the rank, but he nodded his thanks and continued to the elevator.

There was no operator and there was no gate. Instead, the silvery chrome doors opened and closed with a gentle _bing!_ instead of a violent _ring!_ and the ride was as silent as a grave-mouse, far from the angry grinding that he was used to. The whole building made him feel like he was trapped in the World of Tomorrow Fair. He half-expected to see Stark every time he turned a corner. Hell, if he did, he'd probably kiss the son-of-a-bitch.

He pushed the button for the ground floor and the elevator took him there from the sixteenth in roughly ten seconds. This time, the yawning main hallway was completely abandoned except for a single light coming from the Information desk.

Bucky walked over and peered through the window. Inside was a stocky east-Asian woman – possibly Japanese? – staring at a screen. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was in disarray; slowly, she dragged a hand down her face and growled.

“Ma'am?”

Her head snapped up and she blinked blearily at him, one of her hands snapping under the desk for a gun, no doubt. She blinked at him again, then – didn't quite relax, but sat up and placed her hands in her lap.

“Mister – Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted. “What... are you doing?”

His shoulders eased a little at her Brooklyn accent. It was oddly comforting. “There was a, uh... a woman.” The Brooklyn woman – her name-tag read _Hannah_ – quirked an eyebrow. “Who greeted me when I... woke up.” Hannah's face became marble, cold. “I hurt her. It's- It's kind of eating me up, so I was wondering... if... you could point me to her?”

Hannah continued staring at him for a few seconds, before she minutely relaxed. She sighed. “Well, I guess that's understandable. And I guess you were Captain America for a reason, eh?” Bucky wrinkled his nose, but Hannah was flipping through a pile of papers on her desk. “Marie is probably still in her office. Third floor, room 284.”

Bucky attempted a smile. “Thanks.”

A short elevator ride later, he was standing in front of room 284. Light was shining from underneath the door, so Bucky lifted his fist, hesitated, then knocked.

“Come in.”

He opened the door to reveal a messy office full of folders and binders. It wasn't very large, probably 10x10 feet, with the same white-and-gray color scheme as the rest of the building; a heavy oak desk sat in the middle of the room with an office chair behind it. On the desk was a name placard that read _Dr. Marie Smith_. Two plump forest-green arm chairs sat in front of it, covered in more folders. Dr. Smith was sitting behind the desk, no longer in costume but in a future business-suit, her red hair pulled back in a pony-tail, typing on a future keyboard. She glanced at him, did a double-take, then stiffened. Bucky ducked his head and crossed his arms.

He cleared his throat. “Ma'am. I... want to apologize. For earlier today. Or yesterday. I thought you were... I thought you were HYDRA.”

Dr. Smith winced, then smiled and eased herself back into her chair. “I suppose that, in hind-sight, it was a bit cruel what we did. Director Fury wanted to test your mental faculties.” Bucky stared, blankly. Dr. Smith gestured at one of the arm-chairs. “Please, take a seat. Feel free to, uh, move the mess.”

Bucky reluctantly grabbed the folders and set them in the opposite chair. He stiffly sat down, then prompted, “Test?”

Dr. Smith clasped her hands in her lap. “You were in a coma, and were actually brain-dead for a while. When you suddenly showed signs of rapid improvement, he wanted to offer you something familiar while also offering a puzzle. You solved it quite quickly, actually. He was very pleased.”

“So... the radio, playing a game from May of '41? You did that on purpose?” Dr. Smith nodded. “Your horrible attempt of being an officer?” Dr. Smith smirked and nodded again. “You wanted to see if I, what, could piece it together?”

“The good news is that it appears you have no long-lasting brain damage.”

Bucky grimaced and looked down at the floor. “Why was it you? Why were you there?”

“I'm this building's counselor. I work for SHIELD by providing minor psychological support to agents traumatized in the field and refer them to psychiatrists when needed. My job is mostly grief counseling.” Bucky glared up at her, mouth a tight frown.

“Psychiatrists, huh?”

Dr. Smith smiled, blinked, then furrowed her brow. “Yes? Is there...” Her eyes darted to the side then worked upwards, as if she was remembering something or piecing something together. Her eyes bugged. “ _Oh._ No. Yeah, no- We've come a long away in the mental health field. We've developed humane treatments now, no more insulin comas, no more lobotomies, no more electricity – no torture. We've created modern medications that help, not harm, and a lot more emphasis has been placed on verbal therapy. In fact, Barnes, I'm sure this must be a very traumatic time for you, so if you ever want to talk about-”

“Yep,” Bucky announced, standing up, “I'm sorry for hurting you, ma'am, I truly am-” he opened the door and put his foot through it “-and if there's anything I can do-”

“Barnes,” Dr. Smith sighed. She sounded tired. “You can't sleep, can you?”

“I'm fine. Ma'am.”

“Sure you are. And you can call me Dr. Smith.” Bucky turned to go out the door, but paused when Dr. Smith continued, “You know, there's a training gym in the basement. If you need something to do.”

Bucky paused for a few more seconds, then closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally hoped that this chapter would be a big block that covered The Avengers, but writing this story is a careful mix of time, energy, and dodging distractions. I've been extremely failing in all three categories, so I decided to go ahead and publish this.
> 
> That said, I'm determined not to let this fic gather dust and cobwebs. If that means little chapters instead of colossal chapters, so be it.


	6. Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you're looking for a SHIELD agent, I suggest you look somewhere else."
> 
> "Actually, I'm looking for a Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it been over over a month?? Oops.
> 
> At least we're done moving and my inspiration has returned. I've missed this story. It's good to be back.

**3 Days Later**

Greenwood Cemetery, in Brooklyn, was an expanse of rolling green hills peppered with solemn trees. Various tombstones and tombs sprawled across its landscape in different shapes and sizes. In some spots, if one kept their eyes cast downwards, the city wasn’t visible; the cemetery seemed to span forever, reducing the world to green grass and gray granite.

The sky was blue again. Sunlight shone off some of the more polished pieces, illuminating the grounds in a warm sunset gold. Booted feet picked their way through the tombstones, heavily treading through the grass towards a cluster of four graves.

_Winifred Barnes  
May 11 th, 1896 – September 9th, 1984_

_Miriam Barnes  
April 4 th, 1923 – December 24th, 1983_

_George Barnes  
November 6 th, 1890 – February 23rd, 1948_

_James “Bucky” Barnes  
February 22 nd, 1917 – February 23rd, 1945_

The boots stopped a few feet away.

“You know, I’m pretty sure if you ask they’d be happy to remove your tombstone.”

Bucky looked up from his seat on the ground, leaning against the stone of his own grave, legs folded beneath him and a book in his lap. There were grass stains on his khaki slacks and his dress shirt was sweated through. If he was ever sunburned, it healed by the time the evening breeze started blowing. “Still getting used to the fact that I’d need to, Sir.”

Nick Fury huffed and inclined his head. “The shrinks would probably say spending all day every day here is unhealthy.”

“I go to the library.”

“It would be better to _see_ the world as it is now instead of reading about it, no?”

Bucky shrugged and went back to reading. Fury rolled his shoulders and worked his neck, casually stating, “I read the report on your physical. Benching a thousand pounds, sprinting a hundred yards in ten seconds? Very impressive.”

Bucky worried his bottom lip between his teeth. After a beat, he mumbled, “Yup.”

Fury clasped his hands in front of him, one of them holding a file, and shifted his weight to the other leg. “You know, we could use you out in the field.”

“That’s nice.”

“You _realize_ you’re special, right?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to stare forward, unseeing. “Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying.”

“Even if I say your country needs you?” Fury drawled, deadpan.

Bucky grimaced and slowly closed his book – _The War in Vietnam: At Home and Abroad_. “I was drafted into the Army, Sir, and I sure as hell didn’t sign on to the SSR. If you’re looking for a SHIELD agent, I suggest you look somewhere else.”

“Actually, I’m looking for a Captain.”

Their eyes locked. They stared at each other in silence for a minute, both of them unshakeable – Bucky drawn and bitter, Fury open and patient. Finally, Bucky looked away to lunge to his feet, book in hand, before marching in the direction of the cemetery entrance. Fury followed, keeping pace.

 _“Forget it!”_ Bucky spat.

“This nation needs a Captain America.”

“He’s dead!”

“That’s funny, considering there’s a super-soldier right here.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks and whirled around. “Being Captain America is more than just the muscles and the shield. St- _Steve_ had a light in him. It gave the rest of us hope. That light’s _gone now_ , and I don’t fucking have it!”

Fury stood with his legs shoulder-width apart and his shoulders drawn back. “What makes you think you aren’t qualified?”

Bucky worked his jaw then balled his free fist. He started pacing. “Oh, gee, I dunno, maybe the fact that I’m a washed out sniper with a serum knock-off produced in a Nazi labor camp?”

Fury smiled. “I can’t think of anything better!”

Bucky froze. “People deserve a Captain America that isn’t my fucking cynical ass. I can’t inspire anyone.”

“You already have.” Fury pulled out his hand-computer-phone, fiddled with it some, then stepped up to Bucky and showed him some images. The first was of a parade with the Washington Monument in the background, full of people holding teddy bears dressed like his comic book character and signs reading variations of, “ _Welcome back Captain Barnes!_ ” The next was a packed Times Square, its people holding up cardboard squares that came together to form his smiling face. The ones after that were in front of places like the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben – there was even one in Berlin, of all places. The last image was actually a video of the sitting President of the United States – a _woman_ named Catherine Pierce – giving an address to welcome him back. Finally, Fury exited out of the list to show a long board of messages tagged #CaptainBarnes.

“If you don’t have the light,” Fury prompted gently, “maybe you can find it.”

Bucky’s gaze trailed off and down towards the grass. He stayed like that as Fury pocketed his phone. After a while, voice quiet and small, he said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“I have a start.” Fury pressed the file into his hands. Bucky opened it and felt his stomach drop into ice.

“The Tesseract...”

As Bucky began aggressively flipping through it, Fury continued, “Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean after your crash. He thought what we think – the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world sorely needs.”

Bucky snapped the file shut and handed it back, his expression cold. “Who took it.”

Fury grabbed the file and absently tapped it against his hand. “He’s called Loki. He’s – not from around here…” Fury’s mouth twisted; he shifted. “There’s a debriefing packet back at your apartment. You have a lot to catch up on if you’re in. The world’s gotten a lot bigger and a lot weirder.”

Bucky solemnly shook his head. “Don’t doubt it.” He turned and began walking away.

“You’ve had to deal with this thing before,” Fury called after him. “Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?”

Bucky casually turned and yelled, “Destroy it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the shortness. The Avengers is coming in the mail. I actually kind of forgot 99% of the movie, just like Age of Ultron. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	7. Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Van Dyne uncrossed her legs and sat up straight. “People died – on our watch,” she repeated, severe. “So we’re going to avenge them. That’s our team name: The Avengers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's... been a while.
> 
> As my formal apology, here is the _entirety_ of the Avengers, completely rewritten (ha) thanks to the Butterfly Effect. I promised you this fic wasn't going to be a copy-paste with Bucky's name written over Steve's, and I hope I'm keeping that promise.
> 
> Also, the Major Character Death tag finally comes into play - a couple members of _our_ universe's Avengers... aren't here.

He hated the suit. Hated, hate, _hated_ the fucking suit.

Standing awkwardly in the troop bay of the Quinjet en route to Germany, he tried to discreetly pick out the wedgie in his ass without anyone else noticing. Honestly, who designed the new Captain America suit? It was… some kind of… kevlar, polyester, spandex abomination that clung to his every curve. And what the fuck was up with all the zippers? They didn’t lead to pockets, that was for damn sure, and he didn’t need them to get the suit on or off – although he half-suspected he might have to rub himself down in melted butter like a Thanksgiving turkey. When he asked Hawkeye who had a hand in this, he deflected it with an innocent smirk, quipping, “It makes you more aerodynamic. Don’t you feel empowered?”

“I feel like a call girl.”

Barton threw his head back and laughed – maybe not the best thing to do while piloting a future death plane. “It’s a good thing you’re running distraction, then, huh buddy?”

“ _Right_ , distraction. For the alien.”

“The world we live in.”

Bucky huffed and continued to putter around the hold, tossing his helmet around and around in his hands. “You know,” he hedged, “back in my day-”

“ _Yes_.”

Bucky gave him a strange look before continuing “-we thought aliens would arrive in hoards, piloting massive destroyer ships to kill us all and take our resources. Now I’m being told aliens actually exist, only this one looks like a guy, who’s actually a Norse god, but who’s actually an alien, and he arrived alone with the intention of… what, domination?”

“Okay, first off, you just won me fifty bucks from Fury, and secondly, would you _really_ prefer the War of the Worlds aliens to this dung-beetle crack?”

Bucky smirked and conceded. “Point taken.” He still remembered Steve warily poking his head out of his room to eyeball Bucky listening to the 1938 broadcast on the radio and asking, ‘ _That’s one of your science fiction shows, right?_ ’ Steve ended up moving into the living-room to listen to it with him – not because he actually wanted to, Bucky suspected, but because Bucky was practically vibrating with glee. He smiled and nodded at Bucky’s commentary on the whole thing and humored him, asking him questions.

Bucky’s smirk wilted and died on his face. He didn’t smile, joke, or talk until Barton called, “You’re up, Cap!”

\--

Bucky air-dropped onto a roof about three blocks away from where Loki was holding the crowd hostage in the town square. Staying light on his feet, he sprinted and leaped over the rooftops, stopping at the edge of the building overlooking the village square.

“…You were _made_ to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel,” Loki was saying, stalking through the crowd.

Bucky cased the surroundings quickly from his sniper’s perch, missing his Springfield with a deep molecular ache; there was one police car overturned with two casualties, but no one else seemed injured. Police were setting up a perimeter about four blocks down. Back in the crowd, an old man, probably late seventies, early eighties, stood up from the kneeling crowd and looked Loki in the eye. “Not to men like you,” the old man declared.

“There are no men like me,” Loki almost chuckled, his smile feral.

With the kind of quiet, dignified, and enraged tone that Bucky last heard from a liberated Jewish woman only a week ago, the old man said, “There are always men like you.”

Bucky liked this guy, he really did, but Loki was preaching about ‘making an example out of elders’ and it was time to give the old man a break from the heroics.

Bucky launched himself off the building and landed in a roll, springing up in the perfect position to block the shot intended for the man with Steve’s shield, deflecting it back into Loki and knocking him to the ground.

Bucky stood up and scowled, slowly advancing. “Excuse you, but I didn’t crawl through freezing mud, hurl back live grenades, fight my way through half of Italy, and jump out of perfectly good airplanes for four goddamn years so someone could terrorize the German people through intimidation and fear.”

“The Soldier,” Loki huffed, smirking as he climbed back up onto his feet. “The man out of time.”

“Just skip to the end and surrender, pal,” Bucky drawled, right as Barton silently moved the Quinjet around the corner, illuminating Loki with flood-lights.

“ _Loki, drop your weapon and stand down_ ,” Barton ordered through the loudspeaker.

Loki immediately fired at the Quinjet in a quick-draw, making Clint move away; Bucky braced himself with the shield and sprinted at him, ramming him backwards. The crowd was standing and running away, now, so he _had_ to hold Loki’s attention. He threw a sucker-punch which Loki countered, elbowing him hard in the lower-ribs before following through to hurl him away with the spear. Bucky bounced off the ground and rolled to his feet, hurling the shield to make sure Loki kept his eyes on him; Loki struck the shield away and Bucky threw himself at him, feinting to the left and then spinning to drop-kick him square in the face. Loki took the half-beat for him to recover to get distance, holding the spear out like a singlestick, ready to deflect any incoming attack. Bucky backed up towards the shield, only for Loki to suddenly jab the spear forward; Bucky ducked and Loki moved in and spun, catching Bucky at his feint to strike him across the spine like Babe Ruth gunning for a home run. Bucky belly-flopped and sputtered.

He felt the hilt of the spear press down into the nape of his neck. “ _Kneel_ ,” Loki hissed. Bucky pressed himself flatter against the ground; Loki stretched his mouth to yell and disappeared a moment later, blasted into a tree from the Quinjet’s high-concussive shot. Bucky snatched the shield and sprang to his feet just in time to deflect the beam from the spear, throwing the shield in a classic trick-shot so it would hit Loki right in the- Loki stepped out of the way, making the shield bounce off the tree and crack off Bucky’s helmet, sending him flying and landing flat on his ass.

Loki was on him in one bound, teeth bared, and he raised his spear to finish him off. That was when a single beam of what was possibly plasma slammed into Loki’s side and sent him bouncing down the road, the spear skittering off to the side. Bucky staggered to his knees and grabbed the shield, trying his best not to feel like a chump. Iron Man was on the ground, holding Loki at thirty-six different gun-points. He looked over his shoulder and cheerily greeted, “ _Captain. Sorry I’m late._ ” He de-weaponized one arm and held it out to Bucky. Bucky smiled grimly and pushed himself to his feet on his own.

“Good work, Iron Man,” he gruffed, rolling his shoulders.

“ _Please,_ ” said Iron Man, flipping up his face-plate; the pictures of the middle-aged, salt-and-pepper-haired, dark-skinned man in his profile really didn’t do him justice. “Call me Rhodey.”

\--

The flight back to SHIELD was mostly quiet; Bucky was watching Loki like a hawk, eyes narrowed and mouth firm, while Rhodes stood between the cockpit and the troop bay, splitting his attention between small talk with Barton and watching the two of them in the troop bay. Loki kept trying to meet Bucky’s eye, which Bucky always willingly obliged so they could enter into a staring contest. Bucky always won – not because Loki blinked, but because Loki always got bored staring into his dead expression.

In truth, Bucky just felt _tired_. Not in the physical sense – a tight coil of indignant irate-ness was sitting in his stomach, running a steady litany of _if only I had a gun or a knife and was allowed to kill_ and gunning for a rematch – but in every other sense. Emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually, he was experiencing another great big Nothing like he had in the hours after Steve’s death five days ago. Or sixty-seven years ago, to literally everyone else.

…He was truly alone in the world, wasn’t he?

Bucky lost the energy to hold his head up, and of course that was when Loki decided to open his stupid mouth. “You know, I’m almost insulted,” he purred. “Captain America and Iron Man are sent to apprehend me, and I can’t even get the originals?”

The words entered the void in Bucky’s chest and disappeared, but Rhodes’s voice broke off and all his attention shifted towards Loki, tense.

“Then again,” Loki continued, “I suppose that’s for the better, isn’t it? Newer is stronger. The old and inept is purged and replaced – they can’t have been that good if they _died_ , correct?”

Bucky’s eyes slowly slid over to Rhodes, who was staring at Loki with a thunderous expression that would quell the heart of any mortal man. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, giving us lip while you’re our prisoner,” he said, voice too calm and too cold.

Right. One major thing that both he and Rhodes had in common was that they were entrusted with their mantles after the deaths of their original bearers. Steve, of course, fell over a mile off a train into a jagged gully, and Iron Man’s file said that the first suit was created by the billionaire Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, who operated as Iron Man for two years before dying of palladium poisoning. It was slow, apparently. And painful. At least Rhodes got to say goodbye.

Another thing they had in common: they were the most loved and most trusted friends of those original bearers, and now they were alone.

“Giving you ‘lip’?” Loki chuckled, shaking his head, still going. “Why, I am only telling-” The Quinjet quivered and shook for a moment, rocking slightly as it was enveloped in a flash and roll of thunder. Loki sobered immediately and peered at the ceiling, his mouth arced down into a thin frown.

Bucky stood up as Rhodes drawled, “You scared of lightning?”

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki murmured, right before a heavy object landed on top of the Quinjet with a _thud_.

“Barton,” Bucky said immediately, bracing himself on the overheard bars and grabbing the shield, “can you get an ID? What was that?”

“Working on it,” Barton called back. Rhodes closed his face-plate and aimed at Loki with his repulsors. Bucky clicked his helmet back on in case the ceiling concaved. “I can’t get a visual; the hull cameras have too much interference. The electrical currents are wild-”

That was when the back door of the Quinjet was ripped off. Air exploded outward into the storm and a large building of a man swung into the troop bay, dressed in light warrior armor with a red cape, long flowing blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a big fucking hammer.

Rhodes switched from aiming at Loki to aiming at the intruder. “ _Stand dow-_ ” he began to order, then was sent flying into the cockpit when the hammer smacked itself into his chest and arced back to the hand of its master. Bucky stepped in between Hammer Man and Loki, shield raised, and barked, “ _State your intent-_ ” while Hammer Man practically ran him over, knocking him to the side so he could grab Loki by the throat and go flying out the back.

“The _fuck?_ ” Bucky snapped. “Is he another alien?!”

“Oh hey, that’s Thor!” Barton laughed. “He’s cool! I almost shot him once!”

“ _Cool as in ‘potential ally’ cool or cool as in ‘he has the potential to jack us up’ cool?_ ” Rhodes prompted, climbing to his feet.

“Both? Both is good.”

Rhodes and Bucky shared a look. “Regardless,” Bucky stated, his voice hard and sharp, “Loki is our only source of intel on the location of the Tesseract. We’re not losing him.” He turned and began marching towards the back.

“ _Barnes, wait_ ,” Rhodes warned. “ _These guys are practically demi-gods, why don’t I handle this?_ ”

Bucky turned around and shrugged. “Eh, fuck it.” Then he leaned backwards and fell out the open hatch, twisting in mid-air to spread-eagle and search for any signs of their escaped prisoner. Just as he predicted, Rhodes’s hands grabbed him under his arms a few seconds later and began coasting.

“ _Don’t ever pull something like that again!_ ” Rhodes yelled.

“ _They’re over on that hill!_ ” Bucky hollered back.

In less than thirty seconds, they both touched down behind Loki and stood firm, ready to attack. Thor scowled at them over Loki’s shoulder; it seemed they interrupted something. “You would both do well to stay out of others’ affairs.” Loki casually stepped to the side to give them better sightlines of each other.

“We could say the same thing to you,” Bucky almost snapped. Rhodes placed a splayed hand on his chest.

“ _What my friend means to say,_ ” Rhodes hedged, standing down, “ _is that this guy here stole something from us, killed dozens of our agents and civilians, and is holding one of our agents and a scientist hostage._ ”

Thor shot a scathing look at Loki before turning back to both of them and declaring, “The Tesseract is not yours to claim as stolen, but…” His free hand clenched into a fist. “I would be willing to cooperate, to see that your people are returned.”

Rhodes shifted uneasily and Bucky took a step forward. “Then who do you claim the Tesseract belongs to? _You?_ ” Bucky pressed. “What exactly do you want it for?”

Thor looked at him levelly with a severe curve to his mouth. “The Tesseract is a weapon capable of unquantifiable destruction. It should be contained, and my people have the means to do so.”

Bucky cocked his head towards Loki. “ _Your_ people?”

“ _No_ ,” Loki snapped. When all three looked at him, he growled, “I am not ‘ _his people_.’”

Thor looked very patient. “He is my brother,” he declared to them, stern, even as Loki bared his teeth and looked like he was two seconds away from biting him. “And he is of Asgard. Loki shall face Asgardian justice for his crimes against your people, and Asgard shall safeguard the Tesseract from further abuse. Of this you have my oath: _Earth is under my protection_.”

Bucky and Rhodes shared another long, drawn-out look. Bucky, of course, couldn’t make out any of Rhodes’s expressions behind the Iron helmet, so he looked back to Thor and held out his hand. “Then welcome aboard, Thor.” Thor’s eyes softened as he shook it.

\--

The SHIELD team and the two Asgardians were flown to a remote location in the Atlantic, touching down on a massive aircraft carrier with the SHIELD insignia emblazoned on its side carrying over a dozen other Quinjets. For a government agency that didn’t even exist when he was around, it was mind-bogglingly well-funded. The mere _thought_ of how much a single one of those jets must cost made him dizzy, considering a loaf of bread used to cost five cents and now costs almost _two fucking dollars_. He could buy _forty loaves of bread_ for what they wanted for _one_.

He had an anxiety attack in a grocery store, once. Blew his cover. He stuck to his library-cemetery pattern after that.

Bucky blinked the sun out of his eyes and looked across the expanse of the ship. SHIELD agents were swarming, on the move now that Loki was being escorted inside. Fury’s other call-ins were arriving, too – one Dr. Banner and a Dr. Van Dyne.

A conservatively dressed figure with dark hair was climbing out of a Quinjet, and Bucky recognized Banner from the profile on the Hulk. If they were going to be colleagues working towards the Tesseract together, it wouldn’t hurt to make nice.

“Dr. Banner,” he greeted, dredging his charming smile up from the murky depths as he approached her. Once close enough, he held out his hand, searching her face.

Elizabeth Banner was a middle-aged woman with dark circles entrenched beneath her marine-blue eyes. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, leaving her skin looking pale and washed-out, and her shoulder-blade-length brunette hair was loose and being tossed about by the ocean wind. Her plain gray dress-suit and worn slip-on shoes made her look much more approachable than her colossal, green, raging, tank-destroying, hulking form.

Shyly, she ducked her head and shook his hand. “Captain Barnes. A pleasure.”

“ _Ooh_ , mercy _me!_ ” a shrill voice called. Both of them looked to see a short, lithe woman – couldn’t be taller than 5’4’’, maybe 110 pounds, late 20s – marching towards them on yellow six inch stiletto heels, a black pencil skirt, and a yellow-with-black-polka-dots blouse, waving a diamond-studded Gucci handbag. Her black hair was cut in a pixie-cut, scarlet lipstick was perfectly applied to her lips with precision, and her eyes were haloed by deep black eye-liner and yellow eyeshadow. She looked like the youngest daughter of the Chinese family that moved in next to the Barnes in ’27. “As I live and breathe – it’s _Dr. Ross_ and _Bucky Barnes_!”

“Banner,” Dr. Banner corrected forcefully, right before Dr. Van Dyne grabbed her in an embrace. She blinked, surprised, then began moving to hug her back when she moved to grab and pull in Bucky. He stiffened.

Dr. Van Dyne pulled back and beamed up at him. “You know, I used to own one of your teddy bears!” she exclaimed, then turned to Dr. Banner and put a hand to her chest. “And, Dr. Banner, it is such an _honor_ to meet you. You’ve been my _idol_ since _high school_ , you inspired me to get my doctorate in micro-engineering, and I read your thesis on theoretical gene transmutation before the incident, it’s _genius!_ ”

Dr. Banner frowned and crossed her arms, looked down, and shifted her weight. She tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Um, it- it’s kind of what lead to, uh… the incident, actually.”

“Which lead you into becoming a beautiful giant _rage goddess!_ You’re _amazing!_ ” Dr. Van Dyne giggled, taking Dr. Banner’s arm. “Here, let me walk you inside so we can both make our grand entrance.” Dr. Banner ducked her head and smiled, blushing, and allowed herself to be lead off. “ _Bye Buckyyy!_ ” Dr. Van Dyne called back, waving at him.

Bucky was still staring after them when Barton came up beside him. “So, I see you’ve met the good doctors?”

“The Hulk and the Wasp,” Bucky mused. “Why do I get the feeling they could handle this all by themselves?”

Barton huffed. “Two geniuses, one who can turn into a big green indestructible mass of smash and one who can shrink to the size of your pinkie nail and set your nerves on fire? Kind of covers all the bases, yeah. Then we got Rhodes, who’s _also_ a genius and flies around in mecha destructo-suits and Thor, the demi-god. Then you got us.”

“A fella with a bow and arrow and a guy who punches good.”

Barton grinned and held out a fist. “Team average bros?”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, then softly slugged Barton in the shoulder. “Team average bros.”

Barton’s smile was very taut and very tense; he laughed through his teeth and nodded. “ _Aw_ , yeah, okay. Let’s go inside.”

“You’re not gonna slug me back?” Bucky prompted, starting to walk.

“ _It was a bro fist_ ,” Barton moaned from behind him. A few feet later, he heard Barton let out a low whine; he glanced back at him and saw him tenderly rubbing out his shoulder. Bucky looked forward again and smirked.

\--

Once he and Barton were inside the main deck, everyone was buzzing about ‘protocol 614.’ Before Bucky’s very eyes, he watched as the illuminated see-through hover screens showed four massive mechanical extensions fold out of the sides of the carrier, each encasing giant rotating blades. He leaned on a guard-rail for support as the 100,000-ton carrier slowly rose out of the ocean and into the sky.

Fury was overseeing the control room from a platform up above the main floor. At about 1,000 feet, he ordered, “Take us into stealth.”

After about thirty seconds of sequencing, a deep humming began reverberating from the panels composing the surface of the carrier. A screen off to the side was running a feed from an outside camera, showing the entire lower hull shimmer and gradually disappear into the sky.

“We’re invisible,” Agent Maria Hill announced.

For the first time since he woke up in the future, Bucky found himself genuinely smiling and laughing in awe.

\--

All of them listened to Fury’s initial interrogation of Loki in the board room. Fury played it well, but Loki was immaculately cool and controlled. When the feed cut out, Drs. Banner and Van Dyne, along with James Rhodes, began discussing what Loki’s next steps would have to be to bring the Tesseract online. Together, they determined that the iridium stolen from the expo in Germany would act as a stabilizing agent, and that Loki would need a massive power source to bring the apparatus for focusing it online.

Later, when he walked into the main lab, Dr. Banner had Loki’s scepter secured and attached to several devices, projecting data onto multiple screens. Dr. Van Dyne was patrolling around her, running a steady stream of conversation as she arranged and analyzed their data, triangulating the location of the Tesseract from the frequency of the scepter. He approached them and prompted, “How soon do you think you can get a ping?”

“Oh, it’ll take a while,” Dr. Van Dyne shrugged, then smirked. “I’m far more interested in another question.”

Bucky cocked his head. “And what question would that be?”

“Fury claims that SHIELD wants the Tesseract for infinite clean renewable energy,” Dr. Van Dyne pointed out, leaning back against Dr. Banner’s table. “But hasn’t Rhodes perfected Stark’s arc reactor designs? He basically said that Stark Tower in New York runs off a big one in the basement that can power it for a year. Why doesn’t SHIELD just partner with him if they want energy so much, especially if he’s so firmly in their camp?”

“If you’re questioning their motives for wanting the Tesseract, then Doctor, I’m already ahead of you.”

“Oh, good,” she cooed, flashing a smile full of teeth. “Then you’ll like what I say next. I have a plan in place to dredge up all their dirty secrets.” Bucky frowned and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Uh oh! I sense resistance.”

“Surely you don’t have to go that far?” Bucky pressed. “Wanting the Tesseract to stay out of their hands – out of _anyone’s_ hands – is one thing, but SHIELD is the successor of the SSR, created by _Peggy Carter,_ the most honorable woman I know.”

“You didn’t see her in the eighties,” Dr. Banner said softly.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

Dr. Banner avoided looking at him while Dr. Van Dyne stepped in between them. “Hey, Cap. I know times were different where _you_ come from, but nobody goes ‘ra ra hoo ra ra’ at the government anymore. Mostly, we go ‘boo hiss.’”

Bucky shook his head and turned around, resting his hands on the back of his head and letting out a slow breath. “Just don’t do anything that would jeopardize the mission.”

He left them, then, and the door closed just slow enough for him to catch Van Dyne’s, “ _What a prudish old man._ ” He rolled his eyes and began marching down the hallway, heading to nowhere in particular. Mostly just wandering the ship.

When he figured out that he was wandering towards the lower levels, towards the wards labelled _storage_ and _archives_ , he knew he wasn’t going to let the issue rest. Steve’s voice was echoing faintly in his ear, preaching about truth. Bucky was lurking in shadowy corners before he knew what he was doing.

One door seemed particularly promising: G-18, _Misc. Prototypes_. Bucky ran his hands over the door, inspecting it; it was about five inches of steel, held in place by electromagnetic locks. A thumbprint and eye-scanner on the side was required to disengage the locks. Bucky had another idea.

He grabbed hold of the grooves along the edge of the door, planted himself firmly, then slowly began applying pressure. He applied more, and more, and more, and _more_ , until – with a soft grunt of effort – the metal locks snapped off the door and remained perfectly attached to the magnet. Bucky, meanwhile, slid the door open and slinked inside.

Most of the boxes in the room held tame enough things – the kind of bullshit Howard Stark would get up to. Heat rays, force fields, sonar bombardment, the usual. He finally reached the back and pulled out two unmarked, unlabeled black cases. He undid their clasps, then raised their lids.

The insignia of HYDRA stared malevolently up at him from a helmet that made his blood curdle. Inside each box was a defunct Tesseract gun. Bucky shivered, his fists rapidly clenching and unclenching. There was still one more case to open.

When he opened the lid, there was another Tesseract gun, but it was… different. It wasn’t paired with any HYDRA gear, and the parts were all wrong. He’d never seen anything like it before in all of the Red Skull’s army.

It was new.

\--

_“—and what the hell is Phase 2?”_ Dr. Van Dyne’s voice was yelling from within the lab. Bucky walked through the door and slammed down the 2012-dated Tesseract gun on a table.

“SHIELD intends to use the Tesseract to mass-power _weapons_ , just like HYDRA,” Bucky spat.

Nick Fury was in the room, facing off against Dr. Van Dyne and Dr. Banner, who both seemed irate. A massive compilation of SHIELD files were cycling rapidly across their screens.

Fury turned and held up a hand towards Bucky. “We needed a contingency plan-” That was when Rhodes, Thor, and Barton came into the room, following the commotion.

Dr. Banner pulled up a file on a screen and swiveled it around for the crowd at large. “A contingency plan to use the Tesseract to produce weapons of mass destruction?” she said, voice hard. She enlarged the diagram of the massive warhead, with the Tesseract sitting in its heart. “This could destroy a _planet_. Why would you _do this?_ ”

“Because of him.” Fury pointed at Thor.

Thor balked. “Me?”

Fury began pacing. “Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that _levelled_ a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly – hilariously – outgunned.”

“My people want nothing but peace with your kind,” Thor snapped.

“But _you’re not the only people out there_ are you?” Fury retorted. “ _And_ you’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched. Who can’t be controlled.”

“Like you controlled the Tesseract?” Van Dyne quipped.

Thor’s hackles raised. “Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it – and his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of _war_.”

Rhodes, who had been scowling for some time now, interrupted with, “So it would be better if they knew we were only capable of _lesser_ forms of war? The hell does that work?”

Bucky put his hands on his hips. “It works by not declaring that we’re entering a damn _arms race_ with entities that have never wronged us.”

Rhodes squinted at him, scoffing, as Thor drawled, “I thought humans were more evolved than this.”

“Excuse me? Did we come to _your_ planet and blow stuff up?” Fury snapped.

Thor fired back a remark just as Barton weighed in with, “SHIELD isn’t using this for _aggression_ , these are plans of _defense_ ,” and then all hell broke loose.

Eventually, there was a lull long enough for Thor to huff, “You speak of control, yet you cause _chaos_.”

“That’s our motivation, isn’t it?” Dr. Banner prompted, glaring at Fury. “You didn’t gather us to control us, you gathered us to _unleash_ us. We’re those ‘unmatchable,’ ‘uncontrollable’ people of yours.”

“ _You_ need to step away,” Fury warned.

“Leave her alone,” Dr. Van Dyne snapped.

Rhodes side-eyed her. “You need to stand down too, Doctor.”

Dr. Van Dyne flashed her teeth at him in a malevolent smile. “ _Make me_.”

A coiling itch of irritation was crawling up Bucky’s spine, taking root in his head. Rhodes huffed. “’Make’ you? You’re not one of my soldiers, Doctor. I read your file; you’re a pampered civilian, living rich off your pop’s money and getting everything handed to you on a silver platter.”

“Handed to me? Oh, so I guess it was my _bio-_ engineering husband who worked his ass off to craft us all of our tech, huh?”

Rhodes stepped forward. “So you can build things – you think that makes you a hero? I’ve seen the footage; you haven’t lifted a finger a _day_ in your life to involve yourself in something that didn’t immediately benefit you. You’re only playing for yourself.”

“It’s called ‘priorities,’ weirdo.”

Bucky scoffed. “With all due respect, ma’am, you’d best stop calling yourself a hero.”

Dr. Van Dyne turned and pressed herself into his personal space. “This coming from a man who’s had to be _dragged_ into literally every good deed of his life? You’re gonna come in here with a draft slip, riding on the coat-tails of Steve Freakin’ Rogers, and lecture me about _heroes?_ ”

“Hey,” Rhodes warned, stepping up to Bucky’s side, his voice low. “That’s enough.”

“ _It’s like I’m in pre-school_ ,” Dr. Banner drawled, as Thor huffed a laugh: “Mighty warriors reduced to petty insults.”

Dr. Van Dyne pinched the bridge of her nose and stepped away as Fury ordered, “Agent Barton, please escort Dr. Banner back to her-”

Dr. Banner interrupted with a fake smile and a grand gesture. “Where? You rented my room.”

Fury assumed a long-suffering, placating stance. “The cell was just in-”

“In case you need to _kill me_ , but you _can’t_ , I know, _I tried_.” Everyone went silent; Dr. Van Dyne blanched. Tears welled in Dr. Banner’s eyes and threatened to spill over her cheeks. “I _hurt my husband_ ,” she whispered, her voice breaking. One tear escaped. “I never wanted to hurt him again, so I put a bullet in my mouth and _She_ spit it out.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “So I made something else of my life, I helped people, I was _good_ , until you dragged me back into the same hellhole I’ve been trying to escape. Do you all _really_ want to know how I stay calm?”

“Dr. Banner,” Bucky prompted, gently, mindful of Fury and Barton fingering their guns. “Please put down the scepter.”

Dr. Banner blinked at them all, then looked down at her hand. She was holding the scepter, white-knuckled.

A chirping alarm went off, suddenly. Dr. Banner set down the scepter as Fury announced, “It found it.”

“I guess you don’t get to see my party trick after all,” she muttered as she marched over to the tracking screen.

Thor perked up. “The Tesseract has been found?”

“Where is it?” Bucky prompted, hurrying forward.

“ _‘Where is it?’_ ” Dr. Van Dyne mocked in a gravelly parody of his voice.

“ _Ma’am-_ ” Bucky huffed over his shoulder, right as Dr. Banner whispered, “Oh my God.”

A shuddering explosion shook the entire carrier and the room exploded. The floor collapsed beneath them and he and Dr. Banner fell four stories down into the sub-levels in a mess of sparking wires and collapsing beams. He hit the floor, then the beams hit him, then Dr. Banner bounced off the beams and onto the floor.

Two of the beams were pinning his legs. He stretched himself out and felt for any damage, testing his limbs – his knee was dislocated, but that was all right. Dr. Banner was stirring beside him, groaning. Or growling. Two maintenance staff came barreling around the distant corner, yelling, “ _Is anybody hurt?_ ”

Bucky caught their attention and sharply waved them off, mouthing, ‘ _Out! Out!_ ’ Once they turned tail, he turned to Dr. Banner and soothed, “Doctor? Dr. Banner? It’s me, it’s Barnes. Listen to me, everything’s all right…”

A grunt and a snarl tore out of her throat as her body twitched and convulsed, pushing her up onto her knees. She clutched her head and roared as her skin began shifting green and swelling. Bucky’s heart thundered in his chest.

Bucky took a deep breath and pretended she was Steve having an asthma attack. “Listen, I’m going to get you out of here, I’m going to get you someplace safe. Can you breathe for me? Can you take a deep bre-?”

“ **SAFE?** ” she roared, then reared up in an animalistic scream. She staggered to her feet and stumbled to the side, then fell and began rapidly growing, her clothes stretching and tearing. She looked at him for a moment and looked scared – and not for herself.

Bucky sat up and turned to the beams pinning his legs. He worked his hands under them, then with one heave, he threw them off. Immediately afterwards, he took his palm and _smacked_ it against his knee, popping it back into place. He screamed and blinked the sweat out of his eyes, then turned to see the Hulk turned towards him, its attention caught. Not a trace of Elizabeth Banner was left, save for her long dark hair – all of her softness and fat was replaced with green, hard, corded muscle, swelling outwards to make her the size of a tank. Black, beady eyes were staring at him, full of rage.

Bucky launched himself onto his feet and began hobble-running. The Hulk screamed and gave chase, shaking the whole floor.

He needed to get to level 3 and get the shield. He didn’t know exactly how it would help him, but it sure as hell couldn’t hurt.

Bucky shot up the stairs, and when he heard the air whoosh as the Hulk drew back a swing, he jumped up onto the second balcony and flipped over the rail right as the stairway bellow crumpled and shattered. He immediately darted off towards the next stairway, not bothering with the stairs this time as the Hulk leapt up onto his floor, instead opting to scale up the wall at a running sprint. He flipped over the railing again and burst out into the corridor of level 3, casing each direction – agents running to the right, hall clear on the left – before turning around to check the Hulk’s location. It looked like she was still on level 4, distracted by a maintenance worker cowering against the wall, so he snatched a fire extinguisher, boomed, “ _Hey!_ ” and lobbed it at her head down below. It bounced off, dented, making the Hulk turn to him and snarl. Bucky beat his chest in challenge, which worked _wonders_ , because she didn’t just run at him, she _launched herself_.

Bucky began sprinting as the Hulk tore through the wall. Knee forgotten under his thick haze of adrenaline, he managed to keep pace, the Hulk never closer to him than twenty feet. When a group appeared around the corner he needed, he yelled, “ _Go back! Run!_ ”

The agents turned and ran the way they came, and Bucky banked hard after them, sending the Hulk sliding past the side-corridor. He spotted his quarters – room 113 – and dashed for the door. He punched the button for it to open, but before it could, the Hulk exploded through the opposite wall and charged him. Bucky rolled to the side, sending the Hulk crashing through the front wall of his room. Bucky appeared in the Hulk-shaped hole to see Steve’s shield at the Hulk’s feet among the crumpled remains of his bed as the Hulk pushed herself back to her feet and whipped around. They charged each other at the same time, Bucky slamming onto his knees at the last second to slide through the Hulk’s legs to the shield. He snatched it and thrust it onto his arm, then turned to see the Hulk standing over him, roaring with one fist raised high above her read, ready to smash it down onto him.

His vision paled and all sound stopped, filling his ears instead with ringing. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. The green fist was coming down with enough power to liquefy him, so he raised the shield over his head and braced himself for the biggest impact of his life.

The fist slammed down onto the shield at full-force, and the shield rang with a deep _rrrrrrong_ , leaving Bucky untouched and throwing the Hulk off-balance. Bucky took a millisecond to process this, then sprang up into a spin, hurling the shield to _crack_ off the Hulk’s face and return to his arm, making the Hulk stumble backwards.

Bucky shrieked in glee and screamed, “WOO, _now we’re in business_ , c’mon!” running backwards out the door. The Hulk smashed her fists against the ground in rage and gave chase.

He had to lead her back down into the sub-levels, where most people would have evacuated. He sprinted back the way they came, occasionally spinning to send the shield bouncing off the walls to ping off the Hulk’s head, making her stumble and gain him a few feet of space.

“ _Captain Barnes, you alive?_ ” his earpiece crackled.

“ _You bet I am!_ ” he hollered, doing a backflip over a railing and clearing it right before the Hulk tore the metal out of its base.

“ _We got a bird in the air by hangar 2B ready to assist, do you copy?_ ”

“ _On my way_ ,” he yelled back, then gasped and jumped over the same railing the Hulk tore out when she threw it after him with enough force to shear him in half, then used the time he was in the air to lunge at him and smack him into a pile of crates. He hit the ground with a _whud_ , and the Hulk was on him instantly. She swung at him, and in desperation, he swung the shield with everything he had and a bellow of effort to smack the incoming fist away. He deflected it enough to make it slide harmlessly across the surface of the shield, then rolled out of the way of the second fist to hop up and start sprinting again. The Hulk _roared_ , and he was terrified.

He managed to run and leap from railing-to-railing-to-pile-of-crates, making a go for the wide open space of hangar 2B. The Hulk was smashing a straight line to him from behind. Finally, he managed to leap onto a jet, which the Hulk promptly grabbed by the wing and hurled into the air. Bucky flipped off of it and curled up into a ball behind the shield, bracing as the Hulk punched it and sent him flying off into the middle of the hangar. He landed on his feet and skidded back ten yards, then stood up in time to meet the Hulk’s next attack, dive-rolling forward through her legs as she brought both her fists down to then _ram_ the edge of the shield into the back of her knee, bringing her down on one leg. The Hulk twisted and elbowed him, _hard_ , sending him sailing fifty yards through the air to _crack_ off the far wall and land in a heap, the shield landing beside him and _wobble-wobble_ -wobblewobblewobbling to a stop.

Immediately, he heard heavy machine gun fire from a jet and managed to lift his head enough to see the Hulk shudder and try to shield herself. Then, with a bellowing roar, she charged forward and leaped clear out of the Helicarrier and out of sight. The Hulk was gone.

Warily, he tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees, only for his muscles to shake out from under him. He slumped onto the ground and shook, resigning himself to listening to his fellow teammates struggle against the rest of Loki’s surprise siege over the comms.

\--

When it was all over, he, Rhodes, and Van Dyne were sitting solemnly at the conference table, where Fury was standing, silent.

“Where’s Barton? Is he all right?” Rhodes prompted.

“Agent Barton was sent to neutralize Agent Coulson, who was leading the siege,” Fury explained. “The fight was quick and dirty and Agent Coulson is currently recovering in the med ward, both from his concussion and Loki’s mind-control. Barton is sitting with him.”

Bucky remembered Barton talking about how Coulson served as his mentor when he entered SHIELD, and helped him come out of more than one low period. Not only did he owe him his career, but he was a friend. They all agreed he could sit out the meeting.

In short, Fury spoke to them about how the team’s divisions lead to their failure and that they had to get their ‘motherfucking act together’ to stop Loki before he could mobilize his army. When none of them had any suggestions of where exactly that would be, Fury inclined his head and strode out of the room.

Bucky kept catching Dr. Van Dyne sneaking glances at his knee brace and his gentle hand on his ribs throughout the speech, and when she did it again he said, “I know it wasn’t her fault, Doctor. I don’t blame her. I’ll heal within the hour anyway.” Dr. Van Dyne hummed and looked away.

“We had to have missed something,” Rhodes sighed. “We know what Loki needs to activate the Tesseract, a power source vast enough to stabilize the core, it’s all that’s left, but which one on Earth is he going to choose?”  


Bucky shifted in his chair. “There has to be some kind of pattern to his behavior, something that makes him predictable. People like him tend to have some kind of calling card.”

“Well, he has the _worst_ ideas about fashion,” Dr. Van Dyne mused. “He’s trying _way_ too hard to impress. All of his shiny belts and shiny cape and that huge, shiny, _stupid_ horned helmet of his – he likes things that make him feel big and powerful and important.”

Rhodes perked up. “So he’ll probably choose a location that plays into his power fantasies. He’ll choose the most grandiose spot to open his portal and direct his army.”

“He also likes an audience,” Bucky added. “For him to feel important, he needs to do things in front of people. He’ll choose a power source that’s a majestic centerpiece in a heavily populated area.”

Rhodes thought for a moment, then froze. “Oh. _Ugh_ , God…”

Dr. Van Dyne poked him in the side. “What?”

“He’s going to use Stark Tower,” Rhodes growled. “The arc reactor has enough power for the Tesseract twenty times over.”

Bucky stood up abruptly. “Then we have our location.”

Rhodes stood up, too. “I’ll inform Fury-”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky interrupted. “If we do this, we do this on our own terms, not SHIELD’s. The Tesseract isn’t going back to them.”

Rhodes frowned severely, then sighed and shrugged. “That thing’s killed enough of our people, I’m willing to agree with you.”

“The Avengers,” Dr. Van Dyne said, suddenly. They both looked at her.

“Huh?”

Dr. Van Dyne uncrossed her legs and sat up straight. “People died – on our watch,” she repeated, severe. “So we’re going to avenge them. That’s our team name: The Avengers.”

Rhodes slowly began nodding while Bucky smiled. “I like your style, ma’am.”

\--

Bucky knocked on the doorway to the med room Barton and Coulson were occupying. “Barton?”

Barton was signing with an older man in his early fifties, pale, gray-haired, and mostly bald, laid back in a medical bed, looking like he was fighting off pneumonia. The man – Phillip Coulson, Bucky knew him from his initial briefing packet – turned to look at him, his eyes widening to the size of saucers and his jaw dropping almost comically.

“You!” he exclaimed, pointing a shaking finger. His whole expression lit up. “ _Bucky Barnes!_ ”

“Um,” Bucky hedged, but at Barton’s beckoning he walked inside and approached him, holding out his hand. “Yessir, that’s me. You must be Phil Coulson.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Coulson huffed, taking his hand with both of his to squeeze and shake it. “It’s an honor, Sergeant – _Captain_ , oh Lordy, I’m sorry, oh dear, it’s such an honor to meet you, Sir, it truly is, I read your entire biography and I collected all of your bears, the Howling Commandos were my _idols,_ thank you so much for your service and for visiting me-”

Barton was snickering behind him as he said, “That’s quite all right, Sir. You heal up for us, okay? We’re going to get the bastard who did this to you.”

Coulson was still holding onto his hand when he said, “ _Thank you_ , Captain, that means so much.” When Bucky tried to discreetly extricate his hand, he squeezed hard one more time and his expression softened, turning somber. “I am _so sorry_ for your loss. Steve Rogers was a great man.”

Bucky felt the bottom drop out from under him. He blinked in shock, and was surprised to find tears there. “…Thank you,” he said, quietly. Coulson let go of his hand. He took a deep breath, then turned to Barton. “Barton, would you be willing to pilot another Quinjet for us?”

Barton grinned. “Let me go get my hearing aids.”

\--

By the time he, Barton, and Dr. Van Dyne arrived in New York in the Quinjet, the portal was already open and the Chitauri were pouring through. Rhodes, who had arrived ahead in an attempt to swap out his damaged Iron Man suit for his classic War Machine armor and distract Loki, filled them in on what they missed – most notably, that the Tesseract had an impenetrable energy barrier.

The Quinjet performed dutifully, dancing in Barton’s hands, felling Chitauri left and right with its gattler until it circled around Stark Tower and targeted Loki where he was brawling with Thor. They only got a couple shots off before Loki fired the scepter; Barton dodged right, but the beam curved and hit their left engine. The Quinjet began spiraling downwards – with some fancy flight-work from Barton, they managed to coast down, dodging all of New York’s buildings before crash-landing in an intersection and skidding into the glass of a bank.

“Suit up, get ready to go!” Bucky called, fastening his helmet and hefting the shield more securely onto his arm. Barton fastened his quiver-harness to his chest and snapped out his bow while Van Dyne pulled down her face-plate and tightened her sting-gauntlets, sealing her black-and-yellow flight suit. The back hatch opened, and all three ran out.

Everywhere, there was screaming. Cars laid abandoned in the road as people ran in all directions, the Chitauri whizzing past overhead, firing their weapons at civilians and overturning cars. Shards of glass and concrete dust littered the ground from where they pummeled the buildings. Smoke from multiple fires wafted down the streets.

Bucky quickly cased the surrounding blocks. “Our first priority is the civilians!” he ordered, jogging towards the first cluster of Chitauri. “Draw as much attention as you can!”

Van Dyne crackled her knuckles. “My natural element,” she laughed, then sprang into the air and seemingly disappeared. A bass buzzing noise zipped past Bucky’s ear and a few seconds later, what appeared to be a yellow strobe light began attacking the Chitauri as they flew by. They shrieked and convulsed, then went limp, crashing to the ground in a fiery mess.

Barton grabbed three arrows in one hand and quick-shot them at three Chitauri flying by; all three exploded. On the ground, Bucky hurled the shield, watching it ping-pong off six different helmets and snap their associated necks before ricocheting back to him, just in time for him to deflect the shot of the last one standing and ram into it, sending it bouncing off the pavement with a caved-in chest.

Sure enough, several clouds of Chitauri were curving away from their civilian pursuits towards them. He could see Rhodes in the distance drawing them away from civilians up north. He spotted an overturned bus clamoring with people around the corner and saw police swarmed into a compact circle in the distance.

“Barton, Wasp!” he called. “One of you needs to keep them distracted while the other evacuates those trapped. There’s NYPD five blocks over, they need to clear out the buildings, will you be o-”

“We got this, Cap!” Barton called back.

“ _We’ll be fine, go!_ ” Van Dyne urged over the comms.

Bucky nodded and set off in a dead sprint, ricocheting the shield and taking down Chitauri on the way. He was there in a little over half a minute, leaping up onto a squad car. “Every building along this strip needs to be evacuated or else these people are going to run into the line of fire,” he gestured. “Take all the civilians down into the basements, into the subway tunnels, just _keep them off the streets_ , and your next priority needs to be setting up a perimeter to-” he squinted “-as far back as 39th.”

“Why the hell should I take orders from you?” the ranking officer snapped.

The whirring of Chitauri engines made him whirl around right before a car exploded and overturned. Four of them leapt from their hover-cycles to land next to him; he blocked one’s strike with the shield, then followed through with a brutal right-hook, making it go flying back, limp. He ducked a shot from the one behind and then swiped his leg out, spinning back to his feet as it went down and cleaved the shield down to behead it; he immediately reached back and grabbed the arm of the one trying to stab him from behind and flipped it over his back, grabbing it by the jaw and snapping its neck, using the same motion to turn and black the shot of the fourth one, grab its gun, cut off its arm with the shield, and then bash it back into a car.

“I need men in those buildings,” he heard the police officer saying, “Lead the people down and away from the streets, we’re going to set up a perimeter all the way down to 39th street-”

Bucky huffed and turned to run back towards his teammates.

“ _I got some big company_ ,” Rhodes warned over the comms, sounding stressed. “ _Biiiiiiig company_. _Yup, it’s on me._ ”

When he got close, Barton was engaged in half close-quarters archery, half impromptu melee, sometimes using his bow as a singlestick and an arrow as a shortblade. Van Dyne was popping in and out, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to run up to a Chitauri and shrinking the moment it fired, sending its head snapping back and flying backwards when her tiny fist punched it in the face. They were getting swarmed; Bucky vaulted over a car and charged a group of three, ramming them down with the shield and then bludgeoning them when they climbed back up.

He dropped a fourth and fifth one before the rest of the Chitauri unit went down in a grand arc of lightning. Thor landed beside them a second later, using an overturned car to push himself up.

“What’s the story upstairs?” Bucky prompted as the three of them gathered around him, Van Dyne popping back into her normal form.

“I cannot breach the barrier surrounding the cube,” Thor intoned remorsefully.

“ _All we can do is keep defending the city_ ,” added Rhodes through the comms.

“What’s the play?” Barton prompted.

“We work together,” Bucky sighed.

“I have unfinished business with Loki,” Thor gruffed.

“Thor,” Bucky prompted, “Loki’s your brother, you know him. Can you give us some insight into what we’re up against?”

Thor inclined his head and nodded, once, seeming to step back from his anger. “As long as we keep fighting, Loki will focus on us, not your people. We must ensure none of us falls-”

They were distracted by the sound of a motorbike. Turning, they saw Elizabeth Banner, dressed in worn mechanic clothes, ride up and pull to a stop beside a taxi. She cut the engine and got off as they all approached her.

“I stand corrected,” she said, gently. “ _This_ is the hellhole.”

Bucky smiled. “Welcome back, Doctor.”

Banner looked at him, ducked her head, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, ma’am.”

“Hey Rhodey, Betty came back,” Van Dyne pipped into her comm.

“ _Oh thank God_ ,” they heard Rhodes sigh. “ _Okay, I’m bringing the party to you._ ”

Right on cue, a rumble sounded at the far end of the street. Rhodes flew around the corner, following by a massive, armored leviathan.

“I think we have drastically different ideas of parties,” Van Dyne whined.

Banner started walking towards it. “Hey Doc,” Barton called. “You ready to get angry?”

Banner smiled and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, Hawkeye. I’m _always_ angry.” In the motion it took her to look forward again, she transformed entirely from Elizabeth Ross into the Hulk, just in time to slam her fist into the oncoming leviathan’s nose. The Hulk roared as the leviathan began flipping over its head, its body armor falling off as it did.

“ _Hold on!_ ” Rhodes called, firing a micro-explosive from his gauntlet right as its shadow fell over them. Bucky pulled Barton to him as Van Dyne shrunk and pressed herself between them; he sheltered all three of them beneath the shield as the leviathan’s body exploded in a massive fireball. Thor merely shielded his eyes with his gauntlet.

The leviathan’s severed head fell down onto the street below. The surrounding Chitauri began screaming war cries as the Avengers formed into a circle, steeling themselves. The Hulk screamed right back.

At the portal, they could see a thick haze of Chitauri pour through, along with no less than three more leviathans.

“Captain?” Van Dyne prompted, her voice small.

Bucky looked to Rhodes, knowing he used to be a Colonel. Rhodes shook his head. “I commanded a wing of 1,000 airmen in flight missions over Afghanistan. You’re the better expert in small squads against unknown enemies, Cap.”

Bucky took a deep breath. It was true; he lead the Commandos around a hundred separate times when Steve was off doing his Steve-brand nonsense in the field. “If we can’t close the portal, we need to contain all hostiles. Barton, that roof’s your sniper perch; observe the field, watch for patterns and strays. Rhodes, I need you on perimeter – anything past three blocks out gets turned around or dies. Thor, we need to bottle-neck that portal and slow them down. You got the power – use it. Dr. Van Dyne? You go up high and lead them to Barton, Thor, or Rhodes. If any of us get in trouble, you’re our back-up. I’ll stay on the ground and draw them away from civilians. And Hulk?”

The Hulk whirled on him, grunting.

Bucky grinned. “Smash.”

\--

The fighting… was… _grueling_.

For over an hour they fought. Bucky felt like he was on some nightmarish carousel, running around and around the city, _his city_ , being forced to watch as it was burned and broken and shattered. He could see Brooklyn smoking in the distance. The National Guard was there, but they were functioning as their new perimeter, not getting into the thick of it.

He was killing himself trying to keep the Chitauri away from the subway entrances, wading in alone against an entire platoon and doing the exact same shit he used to yell at Steve about. He was constantly, _always_ moving – he couldn’t stop or he’d be killed – throwing the shield and running and diving and flipping and kicking and punching. He had twelve different burns, his suit was torn open on his shoulder and along his thigh, and blood was slowly seeping into the fabric, damp with sweat.

Occasionally he’d get close enough to one of his teammates for them to help out: Rhodes touched down beside him once, firing a volley against those that were trying to flank him, and when a group scattered, Bucky used the shield to direct his repulsor beam in a wide arc, taking them all down; Van Dyne flew in when Bucky was stunned by an explosion, firing her stings like machine-gun fire to keep them off him while he staggered back to his feet, then hopped on his shield and rode it when he threw it towards an incoming swarm of hover-cycles; and Thor joined him once when he was surrounded on all sides, fighting with him back-to-back to methodically take down the horde. They also discovered, a little on accident, that if Mjölnir struck across the shield, it would release a powerful shockwave, wiping out everything in a radius of about ten meters.

He was running through the streets again when over the comm he heard Van Dyne yell, “ _Cap, I’m getting a ton of human heat signatures huddled in Grand Central Station, and Chitauri are streaming inside – I think they’re going to execute them! I can’t get there because I’m carrying Hawkeye! Hurry!_ ”

He hurried. He ran up onto the roof of a taxi in front of the station and leaped through the windows into the upper story; he rolled up onto his feet and hurled the shield to strike the ones aiming their weapons at the crowd, quickly side-stepping a shot. He charged at one and kicked it back onto an exposed piece of rebar, impaling it, then jumped over the shot of a second one, caught the shield, and used it to block the next shot before charging it and punching its head in. Five more shots came at him; he used the shield as a reflecting mirror to redirect them all to Chitauri targets, leaving only two left.

One of them pulled out a small device and activated it, making it glow and emit a loud beeping – a grenade. When it drew its harm to throw it into the crowd, Bucky hurled the shield then turned to quickly kill the second one before it could get a shot off, swiping its legs out from underneath it and stomping its head in. When he turned back and caught the shield, the first Chitauri was scrambling to grab the dropped grenade and turning towards him. Bucky leaped towards the window and curled up behind the shield; the grenade exploded, incinerating the Chitauri and slamming him through a second window, sending him crashing down onto the roof of the taxi, crumpling it. He only found the strength to get up when he heard the faint sound of cheering coming from inside.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

“ _I can close it_ ,” came Barton’s exhausted voice over the comm. “ _Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down!_ ”

“ _It’s not going to matter!_ ” came Rhodes’s voice, sounding hysterical. “ _There’s a nuke incoming, it’ll be here in less than a minute!_ ”

“Rhodes, can you-” Bucky gasped.

“ _The stairwell collapsed in the Empire State Building, I got people trapped up above, I’m the only thing protecting them, if I leave then all these people die!_ ”

“ _I can do it!_ ” yelled Van Dyne. “ _I can stop it!_ ”

“Van Dyne, no, let Thor-!”

“ _He’s taking down leviathans with the Hulk and neither of them have comms, he doesn’t know! I have to do this!_ ” There was a grunting noise; Bucky sprinted into an intersection to search for the incoming missile, his heart pounding in his head. He could see the bomb rocketing straight for the heart of New York. Images of scorched skeletons and flesh melting off of screaming people flashed through his mind from the books about the end of the War. “ _I can’t diffuse it in time, but I can dump it, and I know exactly where!_ ”

“ _Van Dyne, you’re not coming back from that_ ,” Rhodes warned.

“ _My suit’s sealed and pressurized and temperature controlled, I have a chance!_ ” Van Dyne gave a sudden yell of effort; Bucky could see the missile arcing upwards, now, gently skimming across the side of Stark Tower. Its trail shot straight up – and into the portal. Her comm cut out.

Everything was silent for several seconds. He tried to breathe. Suddenly, all around them, the Chitauri were falling, dead. He kept staring at the portal, willing her to come back through.

He felt his bones grow heavy when there was no sign of her. “Close it,” he ordered.

The beam on top of the Tower cut out abruptly, and the portal began collapsing in on itself. Immediately after it closed, there was a faint flash; a human figure was falling towards the ground.

“ _It’s her!_ ” Barton yelled.

Bucky stared at her falling form and began sprinting towards it. “She’s not slowing down!”

A roar echoed around the buildings; the Hulk suddenly appeared, catching her in mid-air and slowing their descent with a building, before leaping off and landing to skid on her back, hugging Van Dyne to her chest. Bucky ran towards them, followed by Thor, then Rhodes.

The Hulk set her down on the ground and Thor eased her onto her back, ripping off her face-plate. Her eyes were closed, her face slack; Bucky fell to his knees and listened for her breath, holding his own. He couldn’t hear anything, she wasn’t breathing. He sat back, then, and heaved a sigh, hanging his head and resting his hand on her arm.

The Hulk bellowed in her face.

“ _Ah!_ ” Van Dyne gasped, flailing slightly, then started hyperventilating. Bucky, Thor, and Rhodes perked up. The Hulk beat her chest and bellowed again. “ _Holy shit_ ,” she wheezed.

“Take it easy, Doctor,” Rhodes soothed.

Van Dyne blinked hard and dragged in a deep breath. “Can you _please_ just call me Janet?” she rasped.

Bucky smiled. “You got it, hero lady.”

\--

The next day, they all gathered beside Central Park for Thor to depart with Loki and the Tesseract. Bucky glared at it with every ounce of hatred in his being as Rhodey carefully lowered it into its container.

Thor embraced Dr. Selvig and squeezed his shoulders, then stepped back and grabbed one handle of the Tesseract’s container, holding it out to Loki. Loki glared at him, then grabbed the other handle. A blue beam stretched up into the sky, then disappeared, taking the Asgardians with it.

They rest of them all said their goodbyes and wished each other well. Betty rode with Janet in her convertible Porsche, and Rhodey returned to where his driver was waiting for him. Clint was walking towards the marked SHIELD car he arrived in when Bucky called, “Hey, Clint.”

Clint turned.

<Can I join you?> he signed. A slow, bright smile grew on Clint’s face.

“It would be my genuine pleasure, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Update:**
> 
> Due to Marvel's increasingly antisemitic narratives in a time where neo-Nazis sit in power within my government, I've abandoned both Marvel and, consequently, this fic. I will probably never come back until there is a complete leadership change in the corporation. Marvel is **dead** to me.
> 
> I'm sorry.


End file.
